Tapas Prompts
by janemac24
Summary: One-shots and drabbles set in the "To Protect and Serve" universe, based on prompts sent by readers. Includes any/all characters and pairings; stories will be rated individually, and notes/warnings provided for each one. [cover art by supernana494]
1. Author's Note and Introduction

**Author's Note and Introduction**

Here you will find various one-shots and drabbles set in the To Protect and Serve universe, based on prompts submitted by readers like yourself. (The name "tapas" comes from TPaS and...well, you know.) The purpose behind publishing this is that a number of people have asked me about including various flashbacks, more focus on some minor characters, etc. These are all things that I really want to write, but couldn't include in the actual story due to their lack of relevance to the plot as I've planned it out.

Each prompt will be published as a separate chapter and include all the relevant information (characters, pairings, timeline, etc.) along with rating or any particular warnings. They're not interconnected or in any order besides the order I get to them. At this point, it's jungle rules: anything goes. Any characters, any ratings, any point in the timeline, angst, fluff, smut – just let me know. If you want to submit a prompt, feel free to send me a message here or on Tumblr (into-themists).

I'll still be writing the actual fic, of course; this is just something on the side. There is no particular deadline attached to it. You can send requests whenever you want; I will respond to them whenever I want.

Happy reading!


	2. Double Date

**Prompt**: _Just- Happy Regina. Dunno, make her hang out with Marian or something, or maybe a double date, when they were a bit younger, not with tragedy *just* around the bend. Please? :)_

**Title**: Double Date

**Genre: **Fluff

**Rating**: K+ (PG)

**Timeline**: set around 1995 (pre-TPaS)

**Characters**: Regina, Marian, Daniel, Robin

**Pairing(s)**: Regina x Daniel, Marian x Robin

**Warnings**: none

**Notes**: The song Regina and Daniel dance to is "Hold My Hand" by Hootie and the Blowfish.

* * *

><p>"Okay, who let that idiot plan this double date?" Marian complains, swatting desperately at the mosquitoes swarming around her knees with one hand while the other wipes sweat from her forehead.<p>

Regina smirks. "That idiot known as your boyfriend? Who _you_ chose?"

"Future husband," Marian corrects, "even if he hasn't realized it yet."

"Anyway, I told you to wear long pants."

"Can we please not play the 'I told you so' game today? I think I'm getting Lyme Disease."

"So we can only play that game when you're the one saying it?"

"Exactly."

They hike in silence for a few minutes before Regina feels the urge to point out, "You don't get Lyme Disease from mosquitoes."

She regrets it three seconds later when her head is being doused with lukewarm water. "God damn it, Regina!" Marian exclaims. "Not everyone can be a fucking nature girl like you, okay? Some of us grew up in the _concrete_ jungle."

It's so hot, she supposes she can't really complain about the free shower. "I'm just saying – Lyme Disease comes from ticks, so if you're worried about it, you should –"

"You know what? Just don't talk to me about bugs. Little assholes. How the hell are they not biting you, too?"

"I wore bug spray," Regina says smugly.

Marian scowls. "My hair can't handle bug spray. This whole date is a disaster, and we aren't even there yet."

Regina wordlessly hands her friend a granola bar and waits. One of the first things she'd realized about Marian in the early days of their friendship was that ninety-eight percent of her negative moods were caused by hunger. Although in this case, the heat, humidity, and mosquitoes may also have something to do with it. But still, it's probably mostly hunger. They've been hiking for almost an hour on their way to meet Daniel and Robin, who are supposedly setting up for camping – Robin's idea of a romantic evening.

Sure enough, five minutes later, Marian is eagerly pointing out butterflies and flowers and suggesting they take a dip in the stream.

"I think the guys are waiting for us," Regina notes, but Marian just laughs and pulls at her arm.

"You actually think they can set up that tent in less than an hour? Please. You saw how many beers were in the cooler – they'll be busy for a while. Now take off your pants and get in here."

Shaking her head with an exasperated grin, Regina kicks off her hiking boots and her pants and starts making her way down to the stream, where Marian is already dipping her feet in.

"It's cold," she observes. Then, without warning, she dunks her water bottle under the current to fill it up and tosses its frigid contents at Regina.

"Marian!" Regina yelps. Half of the water soaks her t-shirt and the rest gets her face, causing sweat and sunscreen to drip into her eyes. Blindly, she reaches out and grabs Marian by the shoulder, shoving her under the water to her waist.

The other woman squeals before laughing hysterically and tackling Regina so she's lying on her back, completely submerged.

Shocked, Regina gasps for air and growls, "I'm going to kill you."

"Nah, then Daniel would have to arrest you and that would just be awkward," Marian teases, and Regina has to chuckle. Someday, they'll tire of those jokes, but not today.

"What's going on over here? We heard a ruckus!" Robin's voice calls from above them. Both he and Daniel have appeared by the stream – they must be closer to the campsite than she'd thought – half-finished bottles of beer in hand. Daniel is carrying a boom box on his shoulder.

"Put that thing down and come swimming with us!" Marian says, releasing Regina so she can drag her boyfriend into the water with them.

Still sputtering, Regina pushes herself up and faces a smirking Daniel. "Cold?" he asks.

"It's refreshing," she explains, trying to hide a shiver.

He carefully sets the boom box on the forest floor and says, "Come here."

"I'm all wet."

"I don't care." He pulls her into his arms and rocks them back and forth. "Do you think some dancing would warm you up?"

"That sounds nice," she agrees. Daniel kicks the play button, murmuring something about how it's _their_ song when "Hold My Hand" comes on. Regina rolls her eyes – he dubs pretty much every love song he hears "theirs" – but she happily puts her arms around his waist as they sway together to the sounds of the music and Robin and Marian's increasingly loud squeals.

Later that night, when they're around the campfire – Regina sitting on Daniel's lap and Marian lying on her stomach, side-by-side with Robin as he teaches her how to braid chains with flowers - Regina leans her head back against Daniel's chest and thinks that this may be the happiest she's ever felt.

Almost as if on cue, Marian looks up and meets her eyes in the dim light. "Forest dates may actually be alright," she admits, nudging Robin's shoulder with a teasing smile. "And this guy may not be as dumb as I thought."

"Hear, hear," Daniel says heartily, raising his beer in salute, and the four of them sit in contented silence, mesmerized by the crackling flames, until it's time to fall asleep under the stars.


	3. Game Night

**Prompt**: _Emma, Regina and Henry are playing Monopoly and Emma is a sore loser. #Fluff_

**Title**: Game Night

**Genre: **Fluff

**Rating**: K

**Timeline**: set around Chapter 13 or 14 – let's call it a deleted scene from Regina's time as concussed!Emma's caregiver

**Characters**: Emma, Regina, Henry

**Pairing(s):** Pre-SQ

**Warnings**: None

* * *

><p>Henry's brow furrows in consternation as he stares into the game cabinet, indecisive. He could have sworn they had more games – did he really bring so many of them to New York?<p>

Finally, he shrugs and grabs the only two board games he can find to show Regina. "Monopoly or Clue?"

"Hmm..." she considers the choice, thoughtfully running her tongue along her upper teeth. "Monopoly," she eventually decides. "We wouldn't want to put your mother at a disadvantage due to her brain injury."

"Hey!" Emma protests from the couch. "I heard that."

"Well, I'm glad to see your auditory nerve, at least, is undamaged," Regina replies smoothly, "even if your critical thinking skills are not yet up to par. Then again, I'm not sure they ever were."

Coming from anyone else, Henry observes, that comment would have elicited some trademark Emma Swan rage, but when Regina says it, his mother just leans back against the couch cushions, sulking. "I'm a detective," she grouses under her breath.

"That you are, dear, but you're also sadly lacking in common sense," Regina says with a smirk as she starts setting up the board, and Henry has to resist the urge to offer her a high five.

"You think you can handle some basic math, Mom?" he asks, grinning wickedly. "That's not really one of your skills even when your brain is working right."

Emma groans. "You're both horrible people," she declares. "I don't think I like you spending so much time together."

Henry's jaw hardens, and he snaps, "You should have thought of that before you got shot." He immediately regrets it when he sees her face fall. He knows – really, he knows – that she didn't _mean_ for a bullet to hit her, but that doesn't make it hurt him any less. Still, though, he tries to recover from it by guiltily adding, "Anyway, you love us?"

"I do," Emma agrees, and Henry doesn't miss the faint blush that colors Regina's cheeks when she doesn't bother to correct the "us," and it makes him forget his momentary anger almost entirely. Snickering quietly, he shakes his head. That woman has it bad.

He'd realized his mom had a massive crush on Detective Mills the first time she'd mentioned her, speaking in the same reverent tone his dad always uses when he discusses "Tamara from the gym," but he'd sort of assumed it was some kind of one-sided schoolgirl crush. Regina had sounded like a worldly, accomplished, pretty-in-a-polished-way older woman who would never give his mom the time of day.

Then he'd met her and realized that, while Regina may be all of those things, she's also a huge dork who's madly in love with his mom and embarrassingly pathetic at hiding it.

"Soo..." he says, pointedly clearing his throat, "Regina can be the banker, since Swans don't do math. Who wants to go first?"

"You know," Regina points out, "'Swans don't do math' is a very defeatist attitude to have. It could really limit you in life."

Henry rolls his eyes and just barely stops himself from replying, "Yes, Mom," since that seems to be the one thing that can rattle Regina even more than Emma's thinly disguised declarations of love.

"I guess I'm a Swan-Cassidy," he says with an indifferent shrug. "So I can half do math, anyway."

"Good, then you're the banker," Regina declares. "If you're going to miss school, you might as well do something educational."

Henry scowls – school is _finished_ – and shoots his mom a pleading glance.

"She's the boss," says Emma, shrugging unhelpfully. "Tough luck, kid."

Regina quickly looks over the rules and says, "Okay, so that means...Emma, you're first."

"Do you not know how to play Monopoly?" Emma asks incredulously.

"It's been a while. I've had more important things to do with my time."

"Oh man, Mills, I am going to wipe the floor with your ass!" she taunts.

Regina exclaims, "Detective Swan!" at the same time that Henry starts laughing hysterically.

She rolls the dice and lands on a Chance square.

"I am _amazing_ at Monopoly – just watch," she says as she waves the card in Regina's face teasingly, and Henry's face burns from secondhand embarrassment. He's not sure why he's so surprised that his mom is terrible at flirting.

"Detective Swan –"

"Emma."

"Emma," Regina corrects, obviously biting back laughter, "have you even seen your card?"

Blinking, Emma turns it around, and suddenly her face falls. "Go to jail?" she exclaims angrily.

Henry and Regina exchange amused glances, communicating with eyebrow raises and subtle nods to form an unspoken alliance. Emma, who is not on top of her game that day (maybe it's because of the brain injury, maybe because she's unlucky), is bankrupt within ten minutes.

Regina leans over to shake Henry's hand as Emma folds her arms sullenly over her chest. "There was cheating involved here. I know it."

"Come on, Mom," Henry laughs. "Sore loser, much?"

"You were the banker! You probably misappropriated funds and blamed it on your terrible math skills."

"That's a horrible way to speak to your son," admonishes Regina, but Henry just grins.

"It's fine. She's just talking out of her ass because she's pissed about losing," he says disinterestedly, causing Regina to shake her head in exasperation about his language. "She'll snap out of it. Want to go get some victory ice cream?"

"You didn't win," Emma pouts. "The game's not finished. Someone has to be second place!"

"Sorry, Mom, you just weren't smart enough to join the _royal_ winning team. You want to get ice cream with us anyway?"

"No. My head hurts."

Regina immediately stands, hands fluttering. "Was that too much for you? Do you need some Tylenol? Let me-"

"Relax!" Emma exclaims, leaning her head back against the pillow. "Just...go get your ice cream. I'm going to take a nap."

Henry sticks his tongue out at her and turns away without a second thought, but Regina's still chewing anxiously at her lower lip as they walk out the door. "Do you think we upset her?" she asks.

"No," Henry scoffs, never so sure of anything in his life. "She's just embarrassed. I think she wanted to impress you."

"Impress me? With Monopoly?"

"She's our crazy pet swan. What do you expect?"

"Right," Regina echoes. "Our crazy pet swan." She gives her head a quick shake and flashes him a smile that doesn't do much to disguise the worry in her eyes.

Later, when he's putting the game away, he watches Regina kneel down next to the couch and tenderly brush a lock of hair out of Emma's eyes. "Hey," she murmurs, "I'm sorry if Henry and I upset you earlier. We didn't meant to gang up on you like that. It just -"

"Happened? Yeah, I know. It's just a game," Emma says with a long-suffering sigh. "You didn't happen to bring me any ice cream to make up for it, did you?"

"Actually, yes. Henry wasn't sure which flavor was your favorite, so I bought you a triple scoop with..."

Henry stops listening and shakes his head. These idiots are exhausting – and to think they call themselves detectives.


	4. Pampering

**Prompt**: _After an undeniably rough day at the precinct for both of them, Regina and Emma attempt to pamper the other senseless. They each refuse the efforts of the other, thinking the other women needs it more than them. Thanks! Love the hell out of TPAS! :)_

**Title**: Pampering

**Genre**: Fluff

**Rating**: somewhere between T and M

**Timeline**: set a couple of weeks after the end of the fic (see warnings)

**Characters**: Emma, Regina

**Pairing(s)**: SQ

**Warnings**: spoilers for yet-to-be published parts of TPaS (as of Sept 7, 2014) – read at your own risk

* * *

><p>Shoulders slumped haggardly, Emma rings Regina's doorbell and leans against the wall while she waits. Regina has said she can just use her key and let herself in, but the first time she'd tried<em> that<em> had revealed that Regina still has some unresolved issues about home security that really aren't worth triggering today.

The brunette answers the door slowly, covered with dust and sweat. "You look awful," she says in place of a greeting. "What happened?"

"Likewise," Emma smirks before tiredly explaining, "I got outwitted on a foot chase – perp snuck around a corner when I almost had him, and I tripped and fell into a dumpster. Then, of course, fucking Jones ended up getting him and took all the credit, even though I'd tired the guy out for him for over a mile."

"He's always enjoyed playing the conquering hero after someone else does all the work," Regina says sympathetically, pulling Emma into her arms. "I'm sorry."

"And then Locksley had the nerve to _laugh_ at me," she continues, shamelessly pouting.

Laughing, Regina rubs her back and promises, "I'll smack him the next time I see him."

"I love you," Emma declares, leaning in to touch her lips to Regina's and lingering for a moment while the other woman's tongue runs along the front of her teeth. When they pull apart, foreheads still pressed gently against each other, she asks, "What happened to you? Why are you so hot and sweaty without me?"

Regina chuckles. "I've been baby-proofing the apartment," she replies. "Those gates are shockingly difficult to install."

"Why do you need gates?" Emma demands, wrinkling her forehead in confusion. "There aren't any stairs in here."

"I need one for the kitchen, because of the stove, obviously," Regina explains tiredly as she pulls Emma inside the apartment and kicks the door shut. "And I'm about to put another on the laundry room."

"The laundry room?"

"My washer and dryer are both front-loaders. Anna could climb in, and-"

"So, check for kids before you wash your clothes," Emma interrupts with a laugh, but Regina's teeth are worrying her lower lip, and Emma quickly realizes she's serious. "Or, I'll help you put up the second gate in a little while, but first come take a break with me."

She collapses onto the couch, tugging Regina onto her lap, and starts massaging her shoulders. "Good lord, woman, you're tense!" she exclaims.

"Yeah," Regina agrees, slowly letting out a breath, and Emma quickly stops what she's doing and pulls her in for a hug.

"Hey, it's okay that you're freaking out right now," she says gently. "But just know that you're going to be an amazing mother. You already are."

"I'm not freaking out," Regina protests feebly.

"Yeah, you are, and it's totally normal. I'd be worried about you if you weren't, but you really don't have to. Elsa and Anna are both crazy about you already, and you know you love them. You'll probably make some mistakes along the way – everyone does – but you're going to be fine."

"You don't know that. Just because I get along with Henry doesn't mean I'll be able to raise two girls, at least one of whom is probably going to have some severe psychological problems for a while, on my own, and-"

Her voice is rising frantically, and Emma jumps to cut her off. "I do, and you know you won't be on your own. I'll be here to be their cool adult friend, and maybe Mom Number Two if we eventually decide to take that step, whenever you need me. And, you know, there's Locksley, and Mary Margaret...not that you really need any of us."

"Right," Regina sighs, relaxing back against Emma for a moment before remembering. "Wait a minute! Why are you taking care of me? You're the one who's been working all day. I should make you dinner or something. Do you want lasagna? I could even make you a steak, if you want; I'd just have to go out and buy the ingredients."

Emma laughs and pulls Regina back on top of her. "Are you trying to become a 1950s housewife? Come on! Taking care of kids is working, too – sometimes it's even harder, trust me."

"Yes, but I'm not taking care of any kids yet."

"Tell that to your brain," jokes Emma as she cranes her neck around to kiss Regina's forehead. "Anyway, it's your last day without two toddlers running around – it's my job to help _you_ relax."

"This is kind of a milestone," Regina says thoughtfully.

"Your last childfree evening," Emma agrees. "It deserves some recognition. I could take you out to a fancy restaurant. Or a bar. We could go dancing. We could –"

"Stop!" Regina groans. "You're exhausted; you know you don't really want to take me dancing. Let's just...I don't know. We can order takeout. I'm guessing you want pizza?"

"Yeah, okay," Emma quickly agrees, assuming Regina's "you're exhausted" is code for "I'm exhausted."

"How are your legs? I mean, from the chase," she quickly clarifies. "Do you need me to take care of them?"

"You mean with your magic fingers? Nah, I'm good. How about you? Would a back rub help you calm down a little?"

Regina shakes her head. "I'm fine, really. You don't need to worry about me. Just...let me order our dinner and then we can set up the second gate."

"If you say so," Emma replies dubiously, watching with concerned eyes as Regina pushes herself up much more slowly than usual. "You know what?" she suggests when the phone call is over – Regina had ordered two pies for just the two of them, if that's anything to indicate her stress level. "Why don't you just lie down on the couch for a minute, and I'll install the gate on my own."

"Emma, no! You just...no. I'm sorry if I made it seem – just...forget it, okay?"

"Forget that you have to baby-proof your apartment? That would make me a pretty shitty 'cool adult friend' to the two kiddos, wouldn't it?"

"But you've had a bad day, and I'm being selfish. I can – I _want_ to take care of you."

Emma rolls her eyes. "Well, _I_ want you to take care of me by lying on the couch so I can give you a back rub."

"Emma..."

"I'm not kidding. I can feel your anxiety from over here, and it's giving me a headache."

Regina sighs and sits gingerly on the edge of the couch. "Are we really having this argument?"

"Yup. I think it's a good thing, though," Emma replies as she starts to dig her fingers into Regina's tense muscles. "Maybe we can take turns. I'll take care of you until the pizza comes, then we'll stuff our faces and you can take care of me."

"That sounds fine," Regina agrees, a small moan escaping her throat when Emma presses into a particularly tight muscle. "I'm sorry I've been so distracted lately. I feel l haven't been giving you the attention you deserve. I love you, and I want to be able to focus on you, I just..."

"You're about to become a mom. That's...wow. That's the only thing you need to focus on right now. I'm not important."

"You are!" Regina exclaims. "You'll always be important to me. Without you, I wouldn't – I couldn't –" Her voice cuts off into a tiny sob as she shrugs out of Emma's grip and turns around to face her. "You're everything to me, Emma. I just wish you would let me show you."

Emma feels a lump rising in her own throat, and she tries to swallow it down before the dam bursts and they treat the pizza man to an alarming spectacle. "Yeah, well, knowing it is really all I need," she replies huskily.

When the doorbell rings, Emma's the one who gets it since Regina refuses to be seen with red blotches staining her cheeks. She deposits the two boxes on the coffee table and raises her eyebrows at the woman still sniffling on the couch. "Are you starving or something?"

Regina shrugs. "Not really."

"Do you want to just...I don't know. Lie here for a while?"

After a moment of consideration, Regina replies tiredly, " Yes, I'd like that."

The two women lie on the couch facing each other, bodies pressed tightly together. Regina's hand strokes the side of Emma's cheek, and she murmurs, "Emma Swan, you are the world to me."

"Good thing the feeling's mutual," Emma attempts to joke. She wonders if she'll ever feel fully comfortable accepting affection – she doubts it, but Regina seems determined to wear her down.

Regina gives her an understanding smile and breaths deeply as they continue to simply exist in each other's arms.

"Regina Mills," Emma finally whispers, breaking the silence, "you amaze me every single day, and you make me feel things I never even thought were possible. I'm just – I love you so much, and I'm so happy for you. Please tell me you're happy, too."

"I am," Regina confirms, managing a genuine smile. "I'm excited for tomorrow, and...and I'm excited for everything."

The gravity of that statement falls over Emma like an avalanche, and her eyes widen with the understanding that Regina hasn't allowed herself to feel excitement for an incredibly long time.

"Good," she says emphatically, punctuating her declaration with a kiss.

"I'm excited," Regina says again, suddenly abuzz with energy, "so why don't I get to work on your leg massage so you're not sore for our run tomorrow morning, and then we can get that gate set up."

"_Or..._"

"Or what?"

Emma waggles her eyebrows. "I can think of a few better ways for you to take care of me with those magic fingers of yours. And some of them would be perfect to mark this occasion, since we won't be able to do them with kids in the house."

"Oh, really? I think I may have some idea of what you're talking about."

"Yeah, you do," Emma agrees, surging forward to meet Regina with a kiss that's both forceful and wholly reverent. Her lips slowly trail down the other woman's neck as her fingers make their way under the waistband of her running shorts.

"Wait a minute!" Regina suddenly exclaims breathlessly. "I thought I was supposed to –"

"Don't over think it," Emma urges, relishing in the soft moans that accompany each twist and thrust of her fingers. "You'll get your turn."


	5. By the Way

**Prompt**: _Henry tells Neal about Regina and Emma._

**Title**: By the Way

**Genre**: Fluff

**Rating**: K

**Timeline**: during TPaS Chapter 15, just after Henry gets off the phone with Emma

**Characters**: Henry, Neal

**Pairing(s)**: mentions of SQ, Swanfire, and Neal x Tamara

**Warnings**: none

* * *

><p>Henry puts down the phone and grins, feeling like a proud parent. Or, at least how he assumes a proud parent must feel when their wayward child finally does something right.<p>

Maybe.

Well, anyway, he's a proud child whose wayward parent has finally done something right, and he's pretty ecstatic about it.

"What was all that about?" Neal asks, carefully keeping his eyes on the road.

"Oh, you know, Mom's about to stop fucking up her love life for once."

"Henry!" Neal exclaims. "Not to turn into an old-time TV dad with the cliché lectures, but your mother and I did not raise you to use that kind of language."

Henry smirks. "Actually," he points out, "you kind of did."

Sighing and rolling his eyes, Neal takes a sip of his coffee and says evenly, "Good for your mom."

"Are you jealous?"

"Why would I be jealous? Henry, we've talked about this. I may have been a little offended when I first found out she wasn't interested in me, but we're over it now. As long as she's happy with whoever she's with, I'm happy for her."

That wasn't at all what he meant, Henry thinks, shaking his head, but it's just like his parents to be willfully obtuse about things like this. He hopes it's not a trait he develops when he gets older.

Anyway, he won't push it. Yet. "She's got good taste," he remarks, "when she wants to."

"So, you're happy she's going to date Regina? You're not suddenly going to get jealous five months from now and try to screw it up?"

"Dad, come on! Mom asked the exact same thing. Why do you guys think I'm suddenly going to turn dark and angry?"

"I don't know," Neal admits. "I guess neither of us is used to the idea of a kid actually having a good relationship with their parents, since...well, you know?"

"Yeah, I know," Henry replies with a shrug. "But you guys are doing a pretty good job. I don't hate you yet."

Unexpectedly, his dad's eyes seem to tear up. "Thanks, kid," he says gruffly. "That might be the greatest thing anyone's ever said to me. If it means anything, I'm really proud of how you're turning out, and I know your mom is, too."

Henry looks longingly to the backseat for the bag containing his books. The absolute last thing he'd wanted for this car ride was a mushy conversation, but apparently he's getting it.

"Thanks," he mumbles.

Suddenly seeming to realize that they've steered into excessively emotional territory, Neal wipes his eyes and changes the subject. "So, do you think you'll get a puppy out of this?"

"I don't know. Actually," he realizes, "I might be more likely to get a horse. But both would be better."

"You just keep hoping, kid," laughs Neal.

"By the way, Dad," Henry says seriously, "I happened to see Tamara walking down the street the other day with _two_ dogs, so if you would just get your shit together like Mom, I could have, like, a whole petting zoo."


	6. Slowly Sinking

**Prompt**: _Regina tries swimming during her healing process._

**Title**: Slowly Sinking

**Genre**: Angst

**Rating**: T

**Timeline**: sometime in fall 2003 (pre-TPas)

**Characters**: Regina, Marian

**Pairing(s)**: Regina x Marian friendship, mentions of Regina x Daniel and Marian x Robin but nothing actually shown

**Warnings**: mentions of violence, PTSD

* * *

><p>"Regina!" Marian calls, banging worriedly on the bathroom door. "Are you alright in there?"<p>

No answer. Marian sighs and contemplates climbing over the top of the stall. She really doesn't know how to properly do friendship with this version of Regina, how to determine when to stay close and when to give her space. Of course, she reminds herself, it's not as if Regina knows what she needs, either. They're all lost trying to navigate this new, terrifying world in which every day seems like a minefield of seemingly harmless events that turn into waking nightmares at the drop of a hat.

Not to mention the actual nightmares. And this thing where Regina starts to forget where she is and becomes unresponsive for a while, which is what she assumes is happening right now.

Swimming was supposed to _help_ her. Regina's therapist had recommended exercise to help alleviate her depression and give her back some sense of control over her body, which had sounded good, in theory. And swimming is much lower impact than running – Regina will never admit it, but it's fairly obvious from her posture and speed (or lack of it, to be more accurate) that running still hurts like hell. Anyway, Regina loves the water – or she _did_.

So Marian had congratulated herself on a great idea and dragged her friend to the pool without realizing that swimming, by its very nature, would require the act of putting on a swim suit, which...well, that's just going to be a problem. There's no way Regina is going to even think of wearing a bikini, and most of her one-piece suits will probably be too tight (the months of convalescence hadn't exactly been helpful for losing any pregnancy weight), except for the maternity one, which would just be adding insult to injury.

"Regina! Open the door, please?"

Slowly, the door opens. There is a bathing suit on Regina's body, which Marian supposes is a victory, but there's also a towel wrapped around her and the look on her face is anything but triumphant.

"I'm fat," she whispers, letting the towel fall away, and Marian looks down and shrugs. Regina's stomach sticks out more than it used to, obviously, but objectively speaking, she's not really overweight.

"You're not. You just –" Shit. She almost says, "You just had a baby," but catches herself just in time. That would have been _bad_. The fact that Regina didn't just have a baby is partially why they're here to begin with. "Swimming will help with that," she finally declares. "And no one will notice, especially once we're in the water."

Regina just stares at her silently, lips quivering, but she's not getting angry and refusing to swim, and she's not in the fetal position, so Marian is willing to call it progress. They'll take what they can get.

"Come on," she urges, "you'll feel better once you're moving around. Endorphins, remember?"

Regina nods but doesn't move.

"Do you want to hold my hand when we walk there?" Marian offers, earning her a furious glare that would probably be intimidating if it wasn't replaced one second later by an uncharacteristically meek expression, which she'll absolutely never get used to seeing on Regina's face, and a tearful "yes."

No one out on the pool deck even gives them a second glance, as expected, but Regina's grip on Marian's hand is so tight she's afraid she might get a bruise from it. Still, they make it to an empty lane, where Marian dives in and watches apprehensively as Regina slowly slides her body into the water. The scar tissue is almost completely healed but somehow still terribly sensitive. If it stings – no, it's okay. She lets out the breath she was holding in and says brightly, "I'll race you to the other side."

She tries almost everything – racing, games, inventing crazy new strokes...and while she's happy that Regina agrees to participate in all of it, she can't help but feel slightly defeated when half an hour later, her face is still stony.

"If you're not enjoying this, we can go home," she suggests. _And you can just lie on the couch and stare at the ceiling like every other day._

"No," Regina says, slowly like she's searching for the words. "This is...good. Let's just...keep swimming." And then she ducks her head under and pushes off the wall for another lap.

"Just keep swimming, just keep swimming," Marian chants under her breath before following, a small smile springing to her face at the memory of happier times. Could it really only have been a few months ago that the four of them were going on double dates to adorable Disney movies?

Now, it feels like Regina is just slowly sinking, and Marian's worried they'll all go down with her.


	7. Bachelorette Party

**Prompt**:_ I would live to see Marian being all super flirty/affectionate with Regina, because of her pregnant women obsession. Things like, if Regina even hints that her feet hurt: BOOM-instant foot massage; if Regina is having a craving, Marian rushes to get it; or Marian rubbing the anti-stretch mark lotion on Regina's belly. Thank you!_

**Title**: Bachelorette Party

**Genre**: Fluff and a little bit of smut

**Rating**: M

**Timeline**: June 2003 (pre-TPas)

**Characters**: Regina, Marian

**Pairing(s)**: Regina x Marian

**Warnings**: sexy-times

* * *

><p>Regina is waist deep in the ocean, reveling in the strange but not unpleasant sensation of Baby Henry's tiny kicks as the cold waves lap up against her belly. Maybe he'll grow up to love swimming. Or maybe this is his way of saying he hates it.<p>

She supposes she'll find out eventually.

Suddenly, she hears a splash behind her as Marian's head pops up, seemingly out of nowhere. "You're not too hot, are you?" she demands, pressing up against Regina's back and wrapping icy arms around her. "Just say the word and we'll go back inside."

"I'm standing in the North Atlantic and there's an ice-koala climbing me. I think I'll be just fine."

"Do you need another drink?"

Regina looks down at the glass of lemonade in her left hand and the bottle of water in her right, both unfinished. "Not unless you're also planning to get me another arm," she says drily.

Apparently taking the hint, Marian lets go of her and says, "Sorry, babe, I know you hate being smothered. I just really don't want you to get dehydrated."

"It doesn't seem like we're in any danger of that happening," Regina snorts. Actually, she'll probably have to pee again soon, after only being out here for fifteen minutes. "And," she protests, suddenly needing physical contact, "you can't just get me all cold and wet and then stop holding me."

Smirking, Marian says, "Sorry about that," and immediately returns her arms to their previous position, and Regina hums contentedly, leaning back into the embrace. She's not entirely sure what's going on with her hormones these days: one minute the idea of any sort of touch makes her physically ill, but the next, she needs to be held more than she needs air. And that's not even counting her sex drive, which can go from zero to sixty and back to zero in less than five seconds with absolutely no warning whatsoever. Daniel is a saint for putting up with her, she thinks. Everyone is.

"Sorry for being grumpy," she whispers. "But this weekend is supposed to be about showing _the bride_ a good time, and you've spent the whole thing worried about me."

"I'm having a plenty good time," Marian reassures her. "You've done a good job with that so far. You're parents' friends' beach house is beautiful, I loved the breakfast in bed, and you make the best margaritas of all time. But if you end up in the hospital with heatstroke, it might put a damper on the weekend, don't you think?"

"Well, the same goes for you," lectures Regina. "You might consider sneaking a glass of water or two in between all those margaritas."

"Look at you! Such a mom already."

"I literally just said the same –"

"Shh...we're ignoring that."

"So, speaking of showing you a good time," Regina mumbles with a forced, hesitant laugh, "I had an...interesting conversation with Daniel before we left last night."

Marian chortles. "Oh, really?"

"Yes. He said you'd informed him that you apparently promised Robin not to have strippers at this thing, but that you wanted _me_ as your replacement stripper."

"I was very blunt with Daniel," Marian explains in between giggles, the amount of alcohol she's consumed that day starting to take its toll. "I told him it's very important to me to have at least one lesbian experience before I become a married woman, and that I intend to have it with you. He was receptive to the idea, but he made me promise to be very careful around the bump. I mean, _obviously_," she adds with exaggerated eye roll as her hands drift downward to caress the bump in question. "Baby Henry comes first."

"Obviously." Daniel _would_ be receptive to the idea, she thinks, snickering to herself. She has no idea why men get turned on by the idea of lesbians, but...well, anyway, she's a little turned on herself, come to think of it.

"Unless, you know, you're not interested," Marian quickly backtracks. "I mean..."

"We'll play it by ear," promises Regina. She turns around, still in Marian's arms, and places a teasingly light kiss on the soft skin just under the other woman's jaw. "I can't think of any woman I'd rather play the stripper for."

"Oh god, are we doing it right now? Can I touch your boobs?"

"What? We're on a public beach!" Regina exclaims. But then her eyes scan the immediate vicinity, and there's no one in sight. "Okay, fine, have at it. But just...you're responsible for putting them back if there's any indecent exposure. I had a hard enough time getting this bathing suit on right." _This pregnancy_, she thinks with a sigh. She'd gone from barely showing to enormous, seemingly in a matter of days, and she's had to buy new bras twice. Daniel's been very happy about that part, but it's Marian who appears to find her new body the most attractive.

She shivers as Marian's still-chilly fingers work their way under the band of her swimsuit, causing every over-sensitive nerve in her breasts to activate. She's already about to jump out of her skin and they've just started this little game. "Does this feel good?" Marian asks.

"Yeah," she hisses, tensing and trying to ignore the pressure that's building between her legs every time the pads of Marian's fingers ghost over her nipples, "better than good. But if we're going to do this, maybe we should get out of the ocean so I can put down these drinks and reciprocate?"

"Nah, you can reciprocate later. The bride is having a _very_ good time touching you right now." _That's not the point_, Regina thinks irritably. She's half on the verge of littering, wanting to scream out in frustration that she can't touch back. Marian's hands, which are thankfully now refreshingly cool rather than freezing, trail downwards, tracing designs along the sides of her belly before making their way to her back, where they start to untie –

"Marian! What the hell are you doing!"

"There's no one around. What do you think about a little topless bathing?"

Regina doesn't have much time to answer – less than a second later, she feels the string around her back come undone, and she shrugs. "Don't say I didn't warn you – you take them out, you put them back."

"We'll see if I even want to," Marian teases, bending her knees so her face is level with Regina's chest. "You, my friend," she states as she reverently cups both breasts in her hands, "are a goddess."

"Really? I was thinking more along the lines of 'beluga whale.'"

"No." Marian shakes her head adamantly. "You're like, the fertility goddess of the sea. I want to put you in a blue, shimmery robe right now."

Marian leans in and runs her tongue in a circle around one nipple while her finger strokes the other. "That would make it very – hard," Regina says between quiet gasps, "to do – what you are currently – doing."

"A see-through shimmery robe," Marian corrects. "With lots of access points."

"Oookay." Regina squeezes the drinks in her hands tightly and tries to breathe as Marian continues to lavish attention on her breasts. "This is the – strangest – bachelorette party – I've ever been to."

"Don't try to pretend like you've ever been to another." Marian pauses whatever she's started doing with her teeth to point out, "Neither of us have any other female friends."

"I went to one for my dad's cousin in Puerto Rico. Nobody did this to me."

"So what you're saying –" Marian moves over to the other side and gives the other nipple a hard suck before turning her face up with a grin "- is that this one is much better."

"Something like that," Regina agrees with a light moan before looking up and gasping. "Marian! There's somebody here!"

"Oh my god, get down!" Marian quickly pulls her under the water to her neck and Regina drops the lemonade glass so she can stuff a fist in her mouth to muffle a shriek. It's frigid. "Shit, your top's floating over there."

"Marian!"

"Relax, I'll get it." Plunging her head under the water, she quickly swims off and Regina sits, shivering, with her now-empty left hand – she sees the glass washing up on the shore; she'll pick it up once they're out – hugging her chest in a futile attempt to cover it. She forces a smile at the large family that's just set up a cooler and umbrella on the beach fifty yards away – shit, shit, shit! – and wonders if she's really mature enough to be a parent.

Maybe not.

Marian comes back, perfectly calm, and pulls the bikini over Regina's head from behind, copping a bit of an extra feel as she ensures the cups are set properly before attempting to tie it.

"Marian, this isn't working," Regina grunts. "They float."

"Can you help me hold them down?"

"Maybe, but I only have one hand."

Three minutes later, they're both still working at it. "Maybe you should have bought a bigger swimsuit," Marian suggests.

"Thank you for that brilliant idea, but it's a little late for that now, don't you think?" Regina replies testily, keeping a wary eye on the elementary-aged kids splashing around by the shoreline. _Don't come any closer_, she mentally begs them. _I don't want to deal with your angry parents._

"You know, in Europe, topless bathing is apparently no big deal. I've never been, have you?"

"Once. My mother took me when I was younger," Regina mutters. "We didn't visit any topless beaches, though. She was more focused on art museums and historical monuments."

"Oh yes, Lady Cora would never visit any topless beaches," Marian exclaims with mock exasperation. "The horror. Imagine what she would say if she saw you now!"

Regina's face burns with embarrassment, or maybe it's just the sun.

"Alright," Marian finally says, in a dubious tone that's somewhat concerning. "I got it tied. How does the front look?"

Regina looks down and groans. "Like I'm wearing a bikini that's two sizes too small."

"Well, as long as you're not hanging out, I think we can make it to shore without those parents with the Jesus bumper stickers on their cooler having a conniption. What's next on my list of fun bridal activities? I was thinking maybe we could take a shower – get the sand off..."

"Whatever the bride wants," she promises, allowing Marian to help her up. She's very proud that she manages to sneak in a slap to her friend's ass before they come within anyone's line of sight. Marian grins.

* * *

><p>"Ugh, I can't eat here," Marian declares as they poke their heads into the first restaurant. "Every single person in here looks like a drug dealer."<p>

"No, they don't. They look like businessmen – look, they're all wearing suits, and they have burgers here."

"White collar," Marian says darkly. "Cocaine, maybe Adderall. They all look sleazy. I feel like I'm at work. Come on, let's go."

"But...the burgers," Regina whines, staring longingly at a tray one of the waiters is carrying to a table of clean-cut men in expensive suits (who, admittedly, do look a little sleazy). Even from outside the door, the smell is making her mouth water.

"Oh, god!" Marian suddenly exclaims, clapping a hand to her mouth. "Are you having a _craving_?" The businessmen's ears all perk up at "craving" (_drug dealers_, Regina thinks with a smirk) and Marian claps her hands together in excitement. "This is so cute," she squeals, rubbing Regina's belly with a huge smile. "Baby Henry wants a burger! Don't worry – Auntie Marian is going to buy it for you no matter how many creepy guys she has to deal with."

"I'm officially cutting you off from margaritas," Regina mutters, glancing around to see that every eye in the restaurant is on them. "Table for two, please," she tells the waiter with a tight smile. "Marian, please do not nose-nuzzle my stomach in public."

"I've just never been around for one of your cravings before!" she whines, but she quickly straightens her back and keeps her nose to herself, although her hands continue to move in small circles, inching toward Regina's back and into a deepening massage. She can't hold back a soft moan as the muscles of her lower back get a much needed release. "You're so adorable," Marian giggles. "I can't believe you're actually going to eat a burger."

"Believe it," Regina says. "Thank you for this, by the way."

"No problem. You planned this entire weekend just for me; it's the least I can do to make sure you're comfortable. I'll get your feet tonight."

"You don't have to; I booked us at the spa for Sunday."

"As I said, you're a goddess."

"I try."

Thankfully, they get a table quickly, and Marian whips out a digital camera after they place their orders. "Early wedding gift from Robin," she explains with a playful glint in her eyes. "I need to document this moment for posterity."

"You _are_ aware that this isn't my first time eating a burger, right? I've actually eaten them...when I wasn't pregnant."

"I know, but it wasn't as cute then."

Regina rolls her eyes, and a waiter approaches them. "From the gentleman at the bar," he says, gesturing to a thin, pale guy with a pointy nose who makes a point of flashing his Rolex when he waves.

"Oh yeah, I'm ugly but rich, let me be your sugar daddy," Marian says mockingly under her breath while Regina pretends to gag. "He's coming over here, isn't he?"

"Where are you from?" he greets in a tone that's perhaps meant to be seductive and Regina doesn't even try to stop from rolling her eyes.

"Boston," Marian replies.

"And what brings you to Hyannis?"

"I assume the same thing that brings you. Nice beach, good company –" with an eyebrow waggle at Regina "- overpriced burgers."

"Well, let me show you a good time," he says, patting his pocket. _Drug dealer_, Regina thinks. _He has no idea what's about to hit him._ "My name's Dan Sherwood."

"Nice to meet you," Marian replies politely, extending her hand for a firm shake. "Detective Marian Knighton, Boston Police, Drug Control Unit."

His eyes widen. "Detective?" he demands. "That's...something."

"It pays the bills."

"Well, _Detective_, would you like to dance? I know the bartender, I can put on some hip-hip..."

_And...racist_, Regina thinks. _Nail in the coffin._

"Oh, please do," she tells him, reaching over to stroke Marian's hair while flashing the badge she likes to keep in her purse. "But she'll be dancing with me. Isn't that right, babe?"

"And you are?"

"Detective Regina Mills, Homicide."

"Homicide?" he chokes. "I...wow."

"Indeed. And just so you know," she adds, leaning in to whisper in his ear, "I'm carrying, and I'm very protective of my woman. Are we clear?"

She hadn't thought his face could get any paler, but it does and he flees the scene immediately.

"I think he just shit his pants," Marian laughs. "Thanks for protecting me, _babe_."

"He seems like a talker, too," Regina observes thoughtfully. "I don't think anyone else will bother us."

"My hero," Marian sighs. "But, you know, now we _have_ to dance."

"Do we?"

"Don't you want to make ugly white guys drool with envy because they're too afraid to touch us? I know I do."

Two burgers, several embarrassing pictures, and god knows how much alcohol (for Marian) later, they walk hand in hand to the dance floor.

"We're the only people dancing," Regina remarks.

"I know – don't you love it?" Marian whispers, placing her hands possessively on Regina's hips while she grinds up against her from behind.

Actually, she kind of does.

* * *

><p>Regina settles heavily onto the fluffy king-sized bed her mother's friends have so graciously agreed to let them borrow and leans back against the pillows with a sigh. Marian is exhausting when she's drunk. Actually, Marian is a little exhausting when she's sober, too, but Regina's never felt it quite like today. She supposes it's because they've rarely had days with just the two of them. Usually, Daniel and Robin are there to act as buffers.<p>

Not that she can really complain, she thinks as Marian clumsily crawls onto the edge of the bed and pulls Regina's feet onto her lap. Her hand-eye coordination might be questionable at the moment, but she's not bad at finding the tightest muscles and kneading them until they finally release.

"Your feet are getting a little swollen," Marian observes curiously.

"I noticed. That's what happens when fat, pregnant ladies spend hours dancing."

"I think it's cute."

"I think I feel like crap."

"Drink more water," Marian urges, thrusting a two liter bottle at her. "The night's not over yet."

"This was supposed to be for _you_," Regina mutters, but she accepts the bottle gratefully and takes a large gulp. They'll deal with Marian's hangover tomorrow. She'd very carefully avoided planning any noisy or energetic activities for Sunday. Marian finishes rubbing her feet and starts massaging her lower calves, and Regina sighs contentedly as she leans over to grab the stretch mark cream from her bag.

Marian perks up, suddenly intrigued. "What's that?"

"It's supposed to prevent stretch marks. My mother gave it to me last week and told me I was apparently supposed to start using it a month ago. Who knew?"

"Who knew?" Marian echoes. "God forbid the daughter of the illustrious Cora Mills wind up with a few stretch marks."

"I already have some, actually, which is why she was so annoyed about it." Well, that and the fact that she's pregnant out of wedlock and doesn't even have a date for the wedding yet. Lately, everything she does irritates her mother. And every time Cora approaches her with the two-hundred person guest list she's already assembled, Regina's anxiety about the entire ordeal mounts higher and higher such that she can't even hear the word "wedding" now without her heart pounding.

"What? Where?"

"Right here," she says, lifting her dress up and pointing to the tiny white lines just above her pelvic bone – or, well, where she thinks her pelvic bone is, anyway; it's not as if she can really see it anymore.

"But these are beautiful," Marian breathes. "Can I touch them?"

"You are officially insane. But, sure, why not?"

Marian runs one finger lightly along the stretch mark and asks, "What do people have against these, anyway?"

"Well, mine are barely noticeable, but my mother showed me some pictures that were...let's just say I don't want to permanently look like a zebra."

She uncaps the tube and starts to squeeze it onto her finger before Marian asks longingly, "Can...can I help?"

Regina shrugs. "Go ahead."

Marian is silent and focused as she tenderly rubs the lotion over every inch of Regina's belly, occasionally pausing to marvel when Baby Henry decides to grace them with his presence by kicking or hiccupping, and Regina watches her with somewhat confused gratitude. On one hand, it's incredibly comforting to have someone so _positive_ about her changing body – Daniel is, but he's basically required to say nice things to her (or at least he believes himself to be), while Marian always says exactly what's on her mind. On the other hand, though, all the doting attention is a little strange.

"God," she murmurs, straddling Regina's legs and cupping both hands under the curve of her belly, "do you have any idea how stunningly sexy you are right now? This is, like, the ideal of all womanhood right here."

"The ideal of all womanhood? Remind me to tell that to my mother the next time she asks me why I got huge so fast."

"You are huge," Marian agrees, "and it's gorgeous. I want to make a sculpture of you. I just -" she runs her hands up and down Regina's sides and says "- I want this."

"Well, I'm sure some day you'll look just like this, and you'll feel big and uncomfortable, but I'll be there to tell you that you look like a fertility goddess," Regina promises. "In the meantime, you look pretty amazing the way you are."

"Maybe," Marian says softly.

"What do you mean, maybe?"

"It's nothing, I just – my doctor said that maybe...maybe I won't be able to get pregnant."

Regina's jaw drops so quickly she's amazed when it doesn't hit the floor with a loud thud. "Marian, I had no idea. I'm sorry. When did you –"

"Like eight months ago," Marian says quickly. "It's – I'm fine now. I didn't want to tell you because you were so preoccupied with the White case, but I – I'm fine. Really. And Robin's fine, and we're all...we're fine."

"You want to tell me again how you're fine?"

Marian's eyes tear up and she shakes her head. "It's okay. We're going to adopt, maybe, when we're ready. I just...I feel like my body's kind of a failure, you know? No fertility goddess for me." She tries to laugh, but it doesn't come out properly.

"Sweetheart, come here," Regina whispers, pulling Marian into her arms. "It's not all it's cracked up to be, I promise."

"Easy for you to say," Marian sniffs.

"I'm sorry. But, you know, you'll be a great mother anyway. Whoever you decide to adopt is going to be the luckiest kid in the world."

Marian leans against Regina's shoulder and buries her face in her hair. "Thanks."

"And your body is absolutely _not_ a failure. It's perfect."

"Thank you, but –"

"And," she adds with a quick look at the clock, "I believe the next thing on the schedule for this bachelorette party is showing the bride how beautiful and perfect she is."

"Wait, how are you going to show – are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"Maybe," Regina teases. "You'll find out once your clothes are off."

Marian is naked in a matter of seconds and shaking her head. "It's not fun unless yours come off, too."

"But –"

"I am the _bride_ here, Regina." Regina chuckles and starts undressing, but she's apparently not fast enough because Marian sighs and crawls around behind her to unhook her bra, running longing hands over Regina's breasts and belly until she shakes her head in exasperation.

"Now, where to begin?" she muses, turning so that Marian is in front of her.

"I've never done this before – sex with a woman, I mean. Have you?"

Regina responds by surging forward to kiss Marian's neck, sucking hard at the other woman's pulse point until she gasps. She hasn't, but when she was about twelve, she'd found an intriguing book in her mother's closet while searching for a blazer to borrow for her class presentation, and she'd kept her flashlight on under her covers deep into the night, reading eagerly and studying the diagrams like she'd be tested on them.

It hadn't occurred to her until later to wonder why her mother was hiding a book about lesbian sex under a pile of neatly pressed blouses.

She pushes Marian down against the pillows, nipping lightly at her neck and collarbone while her hands move downwards to massage soft circles around her breasts. "Regina, geez," Marian grunts, reaching up to return the favor.

"I read a book all about sex with women," Regina whispers with a mischievous grin. "We've got a lot of interesting things to try."

Marian moans and wraps her arms around Regina to grab onto her ass like some sort of anchorage while Regina's tongue and teeth continue to work their way down her body. "And where – exactly – did you get this book?" she demands in between sharp inhalations.

"Talking about it would be a turn-off."

"Oh god!" Marian squeals. "Your _mother_?"

"Do not say that again," Regina growls, lifting her head with a sudden stop, "or this little experiment is over."

"Okay, sorry," Marian mutters, still giggling, though her laughter is punctuated with a soft cry of pleasure when Regina playfully bites one of her nipples. "God, you're so sexy right now. Are you sure this isn't hurting your back, though?"

"Also a turn-off." Snickering lightly, she locks her hands around the backs of Marian's thighs, tilting her hips upwards for easier access while Marian latches onto her breasts again. She slowly massages the inside Marian's legs, grinning wickedly when her friends hips start twitching.

"Seems like you're getting a little excited."

"Stop teasing! God, you're the worst."

"Doesn't feel like I'm the worst," Regina remarks as she flicks a finger lightly through the moisture pooling between Marian's thighs. It's quite enjoyable, she thinks, to have this amount of power over someone just from her body. Especially over someone like Marian who always, _always_, seems to be in control of herself.

"Regina, I swear..."

"I was going to take my time with you, but I guess that's not possible."

"I told you, you're so fucking irresistible right – oh!" Marian suddenly exclaims loudly when Regina's fingers find her clit, lightly encircling it before coming out again. "Regina, oh god, your fingers are magical or something!"

"You're so beautiful," Regina whispers, tugging Marian's hips higher so she can place a trail of kisses along her inner thighs. "Your body is utterly perfect. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, okay, I get it," Marian growls. "Just fuck me."


	8. Subtle as a Brick

**Prompt**: _Pre-SQ, Robin observing Emma and Regina falling for each other before either of them could admit it_

**Title**: Subtle as a Brick

**Genre**: Fluffy-ish

**Rating**: K+

**Timeline**: somewhere around TPaS Ch9

**Characters**: Robin, Regina, Emma

**Pairing(s)**: SQ, Regina/Robin friendship

**Warnings**: none

* * *

><p>It's all in the little things.<p>

Well, maybe not quite _little_ things, Robin reflects, because as his grandmother would have said, Regina Mills – bless her heart – is about as subtle as a brick on her best days. Still, for those who haven't spent the last eleven years observing her various coping mechanisms – most of which involve shutting people out and generally asshole-ish behavior – the ways that Regina is slowly letting Emma Swan into her life might seem small. But Robin Locksley is not one of those people, and he knows they're anything but small.

It's in the way her ears perk up and her eyes soften every time someone utters the woman's name.

It's in the way she jokes around with Swan, the way she tries to make her smile.

The way that she grumbles about "the idiots" in a way that lets Swan know she's not one of them – has never been one of them. The way she lets her know when she's proud of her.

It's in the way that the antisocial "Evil Queen" goes out of her way to spend time with her young partner. They're _running buddies_? Since when does Regina have buddies? Since when does she even tolerate someone else's company on her runs, let alone _request_ it?

It's in the poorly-concealed hurt and devastation painted across Regina's features at the realization that Swan had apparently slept with Jones. (And Robin has to admit, he was a bit shocked by that himself.) But it's also in the way she'd gone after her anyway, determined to help the rookie detective cope with the bitter frustrations of being a woman on the job in a way that no one had been around to do when she'd been at that stage.

He keeps an eye on Swan. He sees something there, in the way that she looks at Regina. Maybe it's not love, but it's respect and it's devotion and maybe, for now anyway, it's enough. Maybe it can even be more someday.

Regina deserves to have someone in her life who looks at her like she walks on water.

He shuts his office door, ready to leave, at the same time they're standing to throw out their takeout boxes. "Will I see you tomorrow morning?" Regina asks as she refastens her badge on her belt loop, not even trying to mask the hope alight in her eyes.

"Wouldn't miss it."

"Don't be late this time, Emma," she admonishes, the corners of her lips turned up in a smile he wants to photograph and frame because it's been so long since he's seen anything like it.

_Emma?_

Subtle as a fucking brick, Detective Mills.


	9. In Memoriam

**Prompt**: _We saw Regina and Emma on the anniversary of Daniel's death, what about the anniversary of Emma nearly killing herself? Is that a date she keeps in mind? And how would Regina feel about it?_

**Title**: In Memoriam

**Genre**: Mostly fluffy with a few angsty moments

**Rating**: T (barely)

**Timeline**: set around 3 years in the future (2017-ish)

**Characters**: Regina, Emma

**Pairing(s)**: SQ

**Warnings**: mentions the time Emma tried to kill herself; set in the future so may contain spoilers for not-yet-written events (as of Sept. 10, 2014)

* * *

><p>"Be good for Mary Margaret and David," Regina admonishes all three children before they pile into the car. "Elsa, please try to keep your coat on. Henry, help make sure Anna doesn't hurt herself, and if I hear about any insubordination –"<p>

"They'll be great, Regina. They always are," Mary Margaret says with a gentle smile. She and David are taking the kids sledding so she can spend the morning with Emma, who's been working overtime all week and hadn't returned from last night's stakeout until two hours ago. They've been volunteering to take the kids on outings more and more frequently, considering it good practice for their own child who's due in June. "Now let's get going before the hill gets too crowded."

"Thank you," Regina mouths, before turning to her children and whispering "I love you" one by one as she kisses Elsa and Anna on the tops of their heads and Henry on his cheek because he's gotten too tall for her to reach any higher. She squeezes Mary Margaret's hand in gratitude before jogging back into the warm apartment building, having to acknowledge with a shiver that going out in just her pajamas and a fleece bathrobe during February in New England had been a terrible idea. At least she can warm up when she crawls back into bed to cuddle with Emma, she reminds herself. She's been looking forward to this all week, a quiet morning with just the two of them before the kids come back, tired and rosy-cheeked from the cold, and their entire family cuddles together in front of the fire, drinking cocoa and reading and just enjoying each other's company.

With Emma's work schedule and all the kids' activities and appointments and all the seemingly endless tasks and hurdles that are constantly threatening to overwhelm them, days like today are hard to come by. She plans to milk it for all it's worth.

Perdie greets her at the door, barking. "I just took you out, didn't I?" she asks. Well, she supposes if the dog wants to pee again, she can let Emma sleep for ten more minutes before inevitably waking her up with her chilly feet when she returns to snuggle. She'll just need to get a better jacket.

She's a bit surprised when she walks into the kitchen, where she's fairly certain she'd left her thickest pea coat draped over the back of a chair, and sees Emma standing in front of the stove making eggs, wearing her red leather jacket.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?" she asks guiltily. "I tried to get the kids out the door quietly, but...well, you know."

"I know. It's fine. I'm not really sleepy, anyway."

"You're not?" That's shocking, and it also puts a bit of a damper on her plans to spend the morning in bed together. Well, she supposes there are more energetic activities they could do there.

"Nope." Emma turns off the stove and hurriedly scoops her scrambled eggs onto a plate, but she's not eating them. She's just pushing them around with her fork, and if there's one thing she's learned about her Emma over the years (She's taken to calling her "my Emma" because any other title just seems wrong: girlfriend sounds like they're in high school; partner is what she'd called her when they were on the force; lover seems like a strange title when they're parenting three children together...maybe someday she'll be able to say "my wife," but that'll probably take years of therapy on both of their parts and they've accepted it's not coming anytime soon.), it's that if she's not eating, something is very, very wrong.

"What is it?" she asks, feeling her heart sink into her stomach at the thought that maybe their day won't be as stress-free as she'd hoped.

"It's nothing," Emma replies shortly. "Let's not worry about it for a while." But it's not _nothing_. Emma is obviously agitated; she's pacing the room and her hands keep moving around, rearranging the eggs on her plate even though none of them are going in her mouth.

"Emma," Regina pleads, reaching out to rub the blonde's shoulder, "just talk to me. Please?"

"Yeah, okay, fine," Emma mumbles, setting the plate down and taking a big breath. She clasps Regina's hands and says, "Look, I didn't want to spring this on you. I was hoping to talk to you about it earlier this week, but then we never had time, and...I understand it's short notice, and if you want to say no, I'll be completely cool with it. I just..."

"Tell me."

"I just...it's just that I realized the other day I've never...I've never actually been to Daniel's grave."

"Oh." Regina feels her chest deflate like all the breath just rushed out of her lungs as she sits down hard at the kitchen table. It's somehow both better and worse than she'd imagined. Perdie immediately comes over to nuzzle her, and she pats the dog on the head gratefully while trying to nonverbally reassure her that she's fine. It's not working because it's not exactly true. "No," she finally manages to choke out, I suppose you haven't."

She's started going herself – she wouldn't say it's a regular occurrence, but she tries to mark all of the important dates – but she's never brought Emma or the kids before. Not that she'd mind if they came; it's just never worked out that way, and they've all come to regard it as Regina's private time.

It also usually takes her about a week of mental preparation to make it there.

"And you want to go there? Today?"

"It's not a big deal," Emma says quickly, apologetically rushing around behind Regina to rub her shoulders. "I don't _need_ to go. Just forget I mentioned it."

"No, I...I'm not saying no," Regina insists, voice strained. She's suddenly very lightheaded and wishing she'd waited until they were lying in bed before making Emma talk. Perdie starts to whine at her, concerned. "I just...why today?"

"Oh, um..." Emma straightens her back, taking her hands with her, and Regina's heart sinks even further as she longs for the comfort of Emma's touch again. "Today...today is actually the anniversary of the day he saved me," she finally gets out all in a rush. "It seemed...fitting. And long overdue."

"Right," Regina mumbles, letting out the breath she'd been holding in one long whoosh. Of course. She sometimes forgets that Emma has her own connection to Daniel – well, she doesn't _forget_ forget, but it's just not something she thinks about on a daily basis, since she prefers not to imagine Emma's state before Daniel got to her. It's not that she isn't grateful, of course –

"Hey," Emma says softly, kneeling down in front of Regina and taking her hands, "what's going on in there? You okay?"

"Yeah," Regina says quickly, her voice husky and strange to her ears. "I'm fine. Let's – just let me take the dog out and then we'll go."

"Wait, really?

"If you want to go, then we're going," Regina says decisively. "This morning is for you."

"This morning is for _us_," Emma corrects. "And if you're not comfortable..."

"We're going." She'd be even less comfortable if they stayed home and she spent the morning feeling like she'd failed to meet Emma's needs. "If you want, maybe we could walk there? Take Perdie?" They've been a bit lazy with their runs these days – crazy schedules and needy kids and all of that – and she thinks some exercise might help calm both of them.

"I'd like that." Emma smiles, wolfs down her eggs in about three bites, and puts the plate in the dishwasher. "You can put some clothes on and then we'll get going?"

It's a long, cold walk, with icy snow whipping their faces as it's blown in by the wind. Regina can't help but worry about the kids out there sledding – god, she hopes Elsa is wearing her coat for once. Anna and Henry, she trusts to get back into the car if they start feeling cold, but Elsa...she wants to get her tested for nerve damage because there's no way a human child should be so impervious to cold. And Mary Margaret, of course, won't leave her side...she needs to stay warm, too, for the baby.

"They'll be fine," Emma says reassuringly, as if reading her thoughts. "People have survived harsh Massachusetts winters since the dawn of time."

"I know."

They walk quickly; whether it's due to the biting cold or the knowledge that this is something neither of them wants to draw out, Regina isn't sure, but she's grateful, regardless. Perdie bounds ahead of them, stretching her leash out to its limit and then running back to demand attention. It's a nice distraction from the heavy thoughts weighing on both of them.

Regina feels herself start to slow involuntarily as they approach the cemetery. She's not sure why, after all this time, it's still hard for her to walk through that gate.

"You okay?" Emma asks.

"Fine. Are you?"

Emma exhales shakily and says, "Also fine. Let's do this."

Daniel's grave is in a corner of the cemetery, under a large maple tree. It's a calming, peaceful place in the spring and summer, she's discovered, but now, with the tree bare and the ground covered with six inches of snow, it feels rather desolate.

Emma seems to agree, standing closer to Regina and buzzing with nervous energy, and Perdie seems to sense that something's off with both of them, because she stays calm and alert by Regina's side instead of chasing squirrels like she usually does. "So," Emma finally says, "what do you usually do when you're here?"

Regina shrugs. "I don't know. Think, talk, whatever suits me in the moment. If you feel uncomfortable –"

"I'm fine," Emma says, forcing a light chuckle, "I've just never done this before, y'know?"

Nodding, Regina watches Emma approach the headstone apprehensively and waits for the question she knows is inevitably coming. _Daniel Reeves; March 27, 1969 – July 16, 2004._

"Beloved son?" Emma asks indignantly. "Why is that all it says on here?"

"His mother arranged everything," Regina sighs. "I was...well, I wasn't really in a position to demand much say in it, at the time." She'd barely been able to attend the service. The memories of those early days of recovery have almost completely faded – or more likely, she's blocked them out – but she has a vague recollection of Robin pushing her around in a wheelchair and someone playing "Danny Boy" on bagpipes and Daniel's mom barely even speaking to her. She's actually glad she doesn't remember most of it.

"That sucks," Emma mutters, kicking irritably at the hardened snow. "I feel like there should be some acknowledgement of...well, _you_ for starters, and his career, and...I don't know."

"It's just a piece of rock," Regina says reasonably. There aren't many things she's fully made peace with, but this is one of them.

"But, like, people who see the headstone...they need to know!"

"What do they need to know?"

"That he was a hero. He saved people's lives! He – he meant a lot of things to a lot of people."

"He did," Regina agrees, "but maybe things don't necessarily need to be written to be felt."

Emma sighs and shifts her weight from one foot to another. "I'm sorry," she suddenly says. "I'm, like, invading your space and criticizing it. That's not my place."

"It's not really _my_ space. It's a public space, and even if it was mine, your presence wouldn't be an invasion. You are my space."

"That may be one of the strangest but sweetest things you've ever said to me. I just...it feels strange to think about him and then see...that. Like, I wanted to do something in memory of him, but this isn't...it's not..."

"I know," Regina says softly, treading through the snow to wrap Emma in her arms. "If coming here isn't the way you want to remember him, that's okay. There's no right or wrong way to do it."

"I wanted this to be something we could do together," Emma mumbles, "like closure."

"We can do other things together. You don't need to memorialize Daniel in a certain way just to please me."

"I love you," she declares, turning her body slightly so she can return Regina's embrace. "I think maybe that's the best way I can remember Daniel – we can connect over our excellent taste in women."

Regina laughs.

"No, but seriously," Emma says, quickly sobering, "he gave me hope when I thought there wasn't any, and now...I'm so glad I listened and didn't throw it all away because now I have you, and our family, and even though I'm exhausted right now, my life is pretty much perfect. And I'm just so...grateful, I guess, that he convinced me to stick around for it."

"I'm also grateful for that."

"And it just _sucks_ that I never got the chance to thank him. Like, I don't know what I can do that will ever be enough to acknowledge what he gave me."

"Well," Regina says slowly, "I imagine the best way to show you're grateful for a second chance at life is to take every moment to appreciate it."

"Oh, really?" Emma teases. "So what you're saying is that I should show you some more appreciation? Like this?" She kisses Regina before suddenly gasping and apologizing, "I'm sorry, is it weird if I kiss you here?"

"You can kiss me anywhere you want," Regina reassures her. Perhaps it should be uncomfortable, being here with Emma, but it's not. If anything, it feels strangely cathartic and beautiful to have her past, present, and future all together at once, but Emma's clearly not feeling the same way. "I love you, Emma. The past...the past will always hurt, but as long as we're together, there's our hope."

Emma kisses her fiercely and says, "Let's go home so I can show my second chance some proper appreciation."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, we can do that snuggling thing you were so excited about before I dragged you out here in the cold."

"You didn't drag me – I want to be wherever you are. Even if it's ten below."

"Well, right now I want us both somewhere it's definitely _not_ ten below. Come on, Perdie."

The increasingly restless Dalmatian barks happily and runs ahead of them while Emma and Regina return home at a much more sedate pace. Before they leave, Emma gives Daniel's headstone a light tap and says, "Thanks, dude," and Regina hopes the tears springing to her eyes are small enough to be blamed on the cold. She has so many things she'd like to say to Daniel right now, but this is Emma's moment, so she just jogs to catch up and wraps an arm around the younger woman's waist, hoping it will say what her words can't.

Back at home, they quickly return to their pajamas and build a fire before piling every pillow and blanket in the apartment on the floor. "Swans build nests," Emma explains.

"Our children are going to find us immature," Regina remarks, still shivering, but she doesn't complain once she's finally lying down and Emma's draping a quilt over her.

"Let them. And let me remind you that we could have gotten the apartment with the fireplace in the master bedroom, but you refused because – quote – the light fixtures were tacky."

"They were tacky."

"They were also replaceable."

"We would have had to buy all new light fixtures _and_ install them, which would have been a waste of time and money."

"But we would have had a fireplace in our bedroom," Emma needles. "And you've been making progress with learning to live with tacky things."

"On second thought," says Regina, quickly changing the subject, "your nest isn't so bad."

"I knew you'd learn to like it."

Emma settles in under the quilt, and they lie facing each other with Perdie sandwiched between them, listening to the crackling of the fire and breathing a little easier knowing they're together.

It's Emma who finally breaks the silence, murmuring sheepishly, "I'm sorry I wasted our morning of epic togetherness, or whatever you were calling it."

"It was far from wasted."

"But still, I know it wasn't what you wanted so...sorry. And thank you, for giving me that moment. This day is just kind of weird for me."

Regina's hand runs repeatedly up and down Emma's bicep, and she whispers, "Emma, you never need to apologize to me. You're alive, and you're here, and that's – that's what's important." She can feel her eyes start to tear up and struggles to keep her voice steady. "You, and our family...you're what made my life worth living again, and I hope...I hope you don't –"

"Hey, calm down. I was suicidal, like 14 years ago. I'm not _now_."

"I know. I know. I just...I never want you to doubt how loved and valued you are, ever again."

"Don't worry; you're making that very difficult."

"Good."

Emma stretches her arm out, draping it over both Regina and the dog, and lets her eyes flutter shut.

Regina isn't sure when she drifts off, or when Emma wakes up, but she knows both must have happened because the next time she's conscious, Emma is opening the door and Henry, Elsa, and Anna are tripping over themselves trying to get in, shivering and dripping wet with melted snow.

"Mommy!" Anna exclaims as she dives into Emma's arms. "We built a snowman!"

"That's awesome," Emma replies, laughing. "Let's get you changed into dry clothes before you get frostbite or ruin the furniture, huh?"

"Why is Momma sleeping on the floor?" Elsa inquires, shaking her head at the absurdity of the situation.

"I don't know. I must have tired her out."

"Mom, gross!" Henry exclaims. "I did not need that in my head."

"Not like that, jerk."

She pretends to smack him upside the head, and Henry rolls his eyes. He's going to be a teenager soon, and his sass is reaching unimaginably high levels, which Regina feels somewhat guilty about. "Whatever. Mary Margaret and David say hi, but they couldn't come up because they're apparently late to shovel David's mom's driveway."

"It's noon," Emma mutters. "Seems a little late for driveway shoveling."

"Yeah, that's...what I said. Never mind."

"Who wants lasagna for lunch?" Regina calls, finally pushing herself to her feet. "And I believe Henry is on cocoa duty today."

Regina takes a pan of leftover lasagna out of the fridge and preheats the oven while Henry carefully measures out water for five mugs of cocoa and Emma takes the girls to their room to change.

"Did you have a good time?" she asks him.

"Yeah, sledding was fun. Elsa and I made a pretty epic snow castle. What about you? What did Mom do to tire you out? Should I yell at her?"

"No!" Regina exclaims. "Absolutely not. Please...please be kind to her today. She – she was just joking."

"Oooo-kay."

Emma returns to the room just as Henry finishes with the cocoa, with Anna in her arms and Elsa riding on her back. _It's dangerous_, she wants to protest, but just for today, she lets it slide, forcing herself to look at the expressions of pure joy on all three of their faces instead of the precarious way Emma is swaying from side to side.

"Momma, can we have lunch by the fire?" Anna asks.

Elsa nods vigorously. "Yeah, Momma, we promise not to spill."

"Please?" Emma adds, joining in with huge puppy-dog eyes.

She can't refuse the three of them anything when they're looking at her like that. "Fine," she relents. "But if anyone spills cocoa on the carpet..."

"...the Evil Queen comes out?" Henry guesses.

The pair walk out to the living room arm-in-arm behind Emma and the girls, settling onto the floor in front of the fire. It's amazing how quickly the flames can mesmerize them, Regina thinks with a chuckle. Not much lunch gets eaten – all the plates except Henry's are still half full when she clears them to the kitchen.

She returns to see Emma lying flat on her back, hair fanned out around her head and eyes half closed, with Henry's head rested on her stomach, Elsa's on her chest, and Anna wrapped around her upper leg while Perdie curls up around her feet.

"When you decide to retire, you might make a good living as a professional pillow," Regina jokes, but Emma is serious, even in her sleepy way.

"I have an awesome family," she yawns, "and an amazing life."

"You do," Regina agrees.

"Wow. So humble, too." Emma grins and murmurs, "Come here. I think there's still some room on my left side. We're going for maximum family appreciation here."

Regina curls up on the huge pile of pillows, nestling her head into the crook of Emma's left arm. "How's this for a memorial tribute?" she asks.

"I'd say it's a pretty fitting one; wouldn't you?"


	10. Softball Tournament

**Prompt**: _Softball tournament_

**Title**: Softball Tournament

**Rating**: K+

**Timeline**: unclear – Pre-SQ

**Characters**: Emma, Regina, Robin, David, Killian, Henry

**Pairing(s)**: SQ

**Warnings**: none

* * *

><p>"What the hell is this?" Emma demands, staring confusedly at the t-shirt Locksley's shoving in her face. "Are we getting new uniforms or something?"<p>

"Close," Nolan chirps merrily beside her, already tugging his on over his dress shirt. "Our team uniform for the BPD softball tournament."

"Oh," she replies, nose wrinkling. "Is that still a thing?" She hasn't been asked to participate in a few years: she'd like to believe it's because her coworkers understand that her duties as a mother take precedence over their stupid bonding rituals, but it's more likely due to her profound lack of softball skills.

She's kind of terrible at being a lesbian, actually. The more she thinks about it...

"It's this weekend," Jones informs her. "You'd best be there."

This weekend. "I have Henry," she says with a smug smile. There, that should do it.

"Kids are welcome," Locksley immediately replies, in a tone that's almost singsong in its teasing. She wants to slap him. "Roland's excited to be a bat boy, and there's always room for more."

She turns to Mills – if anyone can get her out of this, it's Mills – eyes pleading.

The senior detective only shrugs. "Start warming up your glove," she says. "The drug control unit barely edged us out last year – we had to buy their donuts for a week. I don't think I could stand reliving the humiliation."

"Or the strain on the wallet," Nolan adds with a grimace. "Lot of big guys in that department."

"But last year we were stuck with Spencer and his piss-poor eyesight that he wouldn't admit to," Jones points out. "This year we've got Swan. She'll save all of our asses."

Emma laughs nervously. "I don't know about that, guys. I mean, I'm not exactly the best –"

"But you _do_ like softball, right?" Jones asks. "You're – you're...athletic," he finishes lamely.

They're all staring. She rubs clammy palms on her pants and hopes no one notices the droplets of sweat springing suddenly to her forehead. "Yeah, sure, I like softball," she says faintly.

"Good." Locksley tosses the shirt at her and turns back toward his office, calling over his shoulder, "First game's at ten on Saturday!"

_Shit_, Emma thinks as she sits down again with a thud. She drinks the last of her coffee in one long gulp and crushes the cup in her hand, feeling a little bit better at having destroyed something.

But not much better, considering that on Saturday morning, her dignity is going to be destroyed by ten-fifteen.

* * *

><p>"What's wrong with you?" Regina demands as they're packing up to leave. Her tone is accusatory, but her eyes reveal a concern that Emma can't quite bring herself to deal with. She's being completely childish, and she knows it. It's just a softball game.<p>

"Nothing's wrong with me," she replies shortly.

"You've been moping ever since this morning," her partner observes, speaking slowly as though she's putting the pieces together in her mind. "Since Locksley mentioned the softball tournament."

"It's nothing."

"Are you upset that it's cutting into your time with Henry?"

"No. Yes. Maybe."

"Because you can explain that to Locksley, and I'm sure he'd understand, but it's really just a few hours and –"

"Just drop it, Regina," Emma warns.

The older woman shrugs and continues walking out the door, and Emma breathes a sigh of relief. But suddenly, Regina stops short and turns around, realization dawning on her face. "You're bad at softball!" she exclaims.

"Can you keep it down?" Emma demands irritably. "I am not _bad_ at softball."

"Oh, really?"

"No. I think the word you're looking for is 'terrible.'"

"I'm sure you're not –"

"Embarrassing. Shameful. Talentless. Catastrophic. A complete and utter fai-"

"I'm sure you're not _that_ awful," Regina says, completely reasonable and unfazed by Emma's sudden burst of self-deprecation. "You're a solid athlete."

"Yes, I can run," Emma scowls. "I can pick heavy things up and put them down. I don't do organized sports."

"Why not?"

"Why the hell do you think not? I never learned."

Kind of hard to join a team when you're barely ever living in the same district for more than six months. As if any of her foster parents would have paid the registration fees, anyway.

"Oh." Regina regards her silently for a moment before suggesting, "I could teach you."

"What?"

"I can teach you to play softball. Or, at least give you a few pointers so you don't embarrass yourself in front of all of the guys, which is what I assume you're worried about."

"They're just...they seem to be pinning a lot of hopes on me," Emma mutters. "And when it comes to softball, I'm pretty hopeless."

"Don't worry – they like to talk a big game," she says sympathetically, "but really, all they care about is the pizza party afterwards. Free beer."

"Well, thanks for your offer, but I kind of feel like hand-eye coordination is something you're either born with or you're not. I don't know if it can be learned."

"No, but it can be practiced. Tomorrow morning, we'll meet at the usual time, but instead of running, we'll go to the park and practice your softball skills."

"You don't have to do this for me," Emma protests.

"Oh, I'm not. I'm doing it for me. Your fumbles on Saturday would put all of our asses on the line, and I am _not_ buying those bastards any donuts."

She hops into her car and drives off, leaving Emma gaping after her in the parking lot and wondering if any of that was supposed to make her feel better.

* * *

><p>"Wow, you actually are terrible at softball."<p>

"Thank you _so_ much for your praise. It really boosts my confidence," Emma says sarcastically, wiping the sweat off her forehead with her sleeve as she bends to pick up the third ball she's let slip through her fingers.

"You catch the ball like you're afraid it's going to break all of your fingers," Regina complains. "The glove is there to protect your hand. You don't have to flinch every time I throw to you."

"It's a hard ball," Emma protests.

"You know what's going to be hard? Seeing the drug unit's smug faces when we take them their coffee orders on Monday morning."

"They should really hire you to be a motivational speaker."

"Once more," Regina sighs as she jogs to catch Emma's throw (that's way, way off of where she'd meant to aim it). Instead of the gentle tosses she's been trying so far, though, she whips it with all of her might directly at Emma's face.

"Hey!" the younger woman exclaims, but there's no time to think as she moves her glove into the path of the ball just in time to keep it from breaking her nose.

"What the hell was that, Regina?"

Regina shrugs. "Did you catch it?"

"Yes, but I –"

"Are any of your bones broken?"

"No, but you can't –"

"Then what the hell are you complaining about?"

"I just..." Emma sighs and stares longingly at the running trail. There, although Regina often tries to kill her by setting a formidable pace, at least she doesn't have to worry about actual risks to life and limb.

"Now," Regina says calmly, straightening her hair with one hand, "shall we work on fielding grounders?"

* * *

><p>Henry thinks the idea of a softball tournament is hilarious. He's got a handmade sign and he spent an entire evening looking up softball cheers on the internet. He's practicing them with Roland now, and all the detectives are chanting along and getting into the festive spirit.<p>

All except Emma, that is.

"Come on," Jones teases, elbowing her lightly in the ribs. "Did you not get enough coffee this morning or something?"

"Don't worry about it," she mutters.

"Emma, it's really just a game," Regina says quietly from behind her.

And she knows that. She really does. But the problem is that everyone except Regina is under the impression she's some kind of softball goddess just because she's gay, and they're all going to be sorely disappointed when they find out just how far from the truth that is. Practicing with Mills has helped some, but she's still nothing resembling talented at this game.

She finally feels that she's earned her spot on this squad. She doesn't want to let them down now.

"We're first at bat," Locksley reports. "Regina – you're up."

Her coworkers are all good or at least half-decent – Regina hits a single. Nolan and Locksley follow with solid hits, and now the bases are loaded as Emma comes up to bat.

She swallows and takes a deep breath. How bad could this actually be?

Pretty bad, it turns out.

The first pitch, she swings wildly and misses. The drug guys boo and Jones groans behind her.

She manages to connect with the second, but it's over the foul line. Strike two.

Henry is snickering into his hand and she'd kind of like to smack him.

The next is outside her strike zone. "Don't swing!" Regina hollers from third base. She doesn't.

The pitcher winds up again, and Emma stares him down determinedly. It's a big guy named Lance who's nice enough but taking this whole game way too seriously (not that she's one to talk).

She reassures herself that if she strikes out, at least they don't have any outs. Jones can still clean up her mess – although he's had a few beers already and his hand-eye coordination might not be at its peak.

Anyway, she's going to swing. Embarrassment be damned, she's going to swing at this ball like her life depends on it. Lance throws the ball, and Emma squints her eyes and pours every ounce of her frustration and fear and the pain of never being good enough into that swing, and she hears a strange crack as her bat meets _something_ with a force that rattles her whole body.

"Mom, run!" Henry yells.

She opens her eyes wide to see the ball sailing over the park fence and into the river, and she sprints around the bases – this, at least, is something she's good at – and into the waiting group hug just across home plate.

"Grand slam, Swan!" Locksley exclaims. "You did it."

Nolan pats her on the back and declares, "We've got our ringer," while Jones hands her a beer and tips his cap at her.

Regina's smirking. "Nice swing, Detective Swan," she says under her breath. "It would appear you got a bit lucky."

"Yes, it would appear that way, wouldn't it, Detective Mills? Or maybe I had a great coach who made me magically good at softball overnight."

"I'm leaning toward lucky," Regina laughs.

And Regina is correct. Emma doesn't get another hit for the remainder of the game, but they still manage to win thanks to her grand slam in the first inning, so she leaves the park with her head held high and her stomach full of pizza.

"I never knew you were good at softball," Henry mumbles, stuffing his fourth slice in his mouth as they begin the trek home. _Me neither_, she wants to reply. "This was fun. We should do it again next year."

"It's an annual thing," Emma tells him, her mind already drifting off into daydreams of the future. Maybe next year, she'll get another good hit. And maybe by that point, she'll have the confidence to tell her partner, "That one was for you."

Maybe she'll even kiss her after she says it.

Henry yelps, "Mom, watch –"

But it's too late. She trips over the traffic cone and he laughs hysterically at her. So much for happy endings.


	11. Surprises

**Prompt**: _While cuddling on the couch Emma discovers that stoic superhero cop Regina is a wee bit ticklish!_

**Title**: Surprises

**Rating**: T-ish

**Timeline**: sometime in the near future after the end of the fic

**Characters**: Emma, Regina

**Pairing(s)**: SQ

**Warnings**: very vague spoilers, maybe (as of Sept. 17, 2014)

* * *

><p>"This day was shit," Emma states sullenly, stomping into the living room holding a plate piled high with macaroni and cheese. "Just a shit-storm of epic proportions. I can't with all these damn rookies."<p>

Regina laughs. "Now you know how I felt."

"It's just...where the hell are some people keeping their brains. I don't even –" she continues ranting for a moment before she suddenly realizes what Regina said. "Hey! I was a good rookie. You said so yourself."

"You were," Regina agrees, "but you were still a rookie who required training and guidance, and that took a lot of time that could have been devoted to other pursuits."

Emma sits down on the end of the couch opposite Regina, stuffs a forkful of food in her mouth, and sulks. "I'm having a terrible day already and then you have to go and insult me?" she demands, voice thick with half-chewed macaroni. "Why am I even dating you?"

"I didn't mean that as an insult!" Regina quickly clarifies, her eyes widening in horror as she replays her comment in her head. "I see now that it could be interpreted that way, though. I'm sorry."

"How _did_ you mean it, exactly?"

"I meant that the time I spent training you became worth it, for both of us, so perhaps you should give these rookies a chance."

Emma smirks and rolls her eyes. "The Evil Queen telling me to give people a chance? This is a plot-twist I wouldn't have predicted."

"Sometimes people can surprise you," Regina says with a shrug. "Like you surprised me."

"Yeah, maybe I'll surprisingly fall in love with one of the new rookies," Emma jokes as she takes another huge bite of macaroni, causing Regina's face to pale.

"I'd prefer it if you tried to avoid those kinds of surprises," she mumbles. "I've grown accustomed to having you all to myself."

"Yeah, don't worry. I think you're pretty stuck with me. Swans are monogamous – did you know that?"

"You've mentioned it. And I'm not _really_ worried."

"You're not?"

"Not in the slightest," Regina confirms, smiling. "Now, do you need me to smooth your ruffled feathers after your horrible day with idiotic rookies?"

Emma gulps down her macaroni and demands, "Was that just a thinly-veiled euphemism for sex?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of cuddling, for the moment, but perhaps sex when we're certain that Henry's asleep?"

"I'd like that," Emma replies, carefully depositing her plate on the coffee table before tugging Regina's feet onto her lap and starting to massage her calves. "You're tight," she observes, surprised.

Regina moans as Emma's fingers dig into a particularly tense muscle and replies, "I may have tried to do some afternoon sprints. They went poorly."

"Ugh," Emma grunts sympathetically.

"But I'm fairly certain I was the one who offered to smooth _your_ feathers."

"You were," Emma agrees. "But I'm enjoying this, so...too bad."

Regina sighs and leans back against the couch cushions, letting Emma's hands work their magic. Emma is focused, working slowly and methodically up her legs, until suddenly her fingers ghost over the back of the other woman's knees and Regina lets out a high pitched shriek that sounds so much like one of the toddlers sleeping in the next room that Emma almost jumps up to check on them before she realizes what happened.

"Wait – was that _you_?" An embarrassed nod comes from the other side of the couch and Emma smirks, running her hands over the same place as a test. Regina squeals before slapping her hands over her mouth as her legs twitch at the slightest contact.

"Regina Mills," Emma demands, shocked, "are you...ticklish?"

"Don't," Regina warns, but her menacing tone is tempered somewhat by the giggles that escape whenever Emma's fingers touch her.

"Oh my god," Emma breathes. "This is pure gold. I can't believe I didn't notice this before."

"Please – don't – use this – knowledge – against me," Regina squeaks in between giggles and gasps.

"Oh, no, of course not." Emma grins mischievously and flexes her fingers, eyes running up and down Regina's body with newfound glee. "But this begs the question: are there any more ways you're going to surprise me today?"


	12. Bad Nights

**Prompt**: _Late night, can't sleep, comfort fic_

**Title**: Bad Nights

**Genre**: Family Angst/Fluff

**Rating**: K+

**Timeline**: maybe a year after the end of TPaS

**Characters**: Regina, Emma, Elsa, Anna, Henry

**Pairing(s)**: SQ, Swan-Mills family

**Warnings**: may contain spoilers for unwritten parts of TPaS as of Sept. 20, 2014

* * *

><p>They still sometimes have bad nights.<p>

Nights when Regina thrashes and screams in her sleep and Emma is powerless to help. She can wake Regina up and rub her back and listen as she cries and cries, but it doesn't make a difference. Not really.

But then Regina always lies and says it does, and somehow it always makes Emma's heart swell about three sizes, knowing that she has someone who loves her enough to lie to her. So she holds Regina close and strokes her hair and even sings softly until, finally, her eyes flutter closed and her tears stop leaking out onto Emma's shirt.

And then they hear a cry from the other room.

"That would be Elsa," Regina murmurs, sighing heavily into Emma's chest before pushing herself laboriously off the bed – Emma would offer, but they've found that when Elsa's in the midst of a nightmare, she wants Regina and only Regina until she's calmed down a bit – and pads out of the room. Emma groans and leans back against the pillows. It's not that she'd expected to sleep particularly well tonight, but this pretty much confirms that she won't.

Regina returns a few minutes later with Elsa in her arms and practically falls onto the bed beside Emma before gently (as gently as she can, anyway – Elsa's getting too big to carry, but neither she nor Regina is willing to admit it) setting the little girl between them.

"Hey, kiddo – bad dream?" Emma asks sympathetically. Elsa nods, sticks her thumb in her mouth, and reaches out her other hand to hold Emma's while curling against Regina's side. "Seems to be a lot of that going around tonight."

Elsa falls asleep almost instantly with Regina's arms around her, and even Regina herself seems on the brink of it when there's another cry from outside the door.

"And there's Anna," Emma remarks. Their younger daughter rarely, if ever, sleeps through the night without her sister next to her. "I'll get her."

Regina hums gratefully, eyes still closed, as Emma gently extracts her fingers from Elsa's and treads down the hall as lightly as she can - careful not to wake Henry, who's probably the only one still sleeping. Lucky him.

"Hey, Anna," she says softly, flicking the light on as she walks into the room. "What's up?"

"Where's Elsa?" the toddler whimpers.

"It's okay; she's in our room. Do you want to come sleep there, too?"

Anna nods and practically throws herself into Emma's arms, forcing her to take a quick step back to brace herself. "Calm down, kid," she laughs. "We'll get there in just a minute."

She walks carefully back – Anna is small but squirmy – and thinks she hears a faint rustling from Henry's room, but he's always been an active sleeper as his body reacts to whatever he's dreaming about. "Here we are," she whispers as she deposits Anna on the bed next to her sister.

Regina says, "Come here, baby," and lightly strokes her finger over Anna's cheek.

Emma kisses all of them goodnight for the second time that evening and wills her eyes to shut, smiling peacefully as she listens to everyone's breathing grow longer and slower.

And then the door creaks open. "Moms?" Henry asks sleepily. "What's going on?"

"I'm sorry, did we wake you?" Emma murmurs. Regina offers him an apologetic smile. He shakes his head and looks longingly toward his mothers' bed, and Emma smirks. "You want to turn tonight into a full family party?"

Henry nods and carefully wedges himself between Emma and Anna. She'd say something about how he's almost a teenager and probably too old for this, but she's always worried he'll feel left out with so much of their attention devoted to the girls, and anyway, it's nice to have him close.

"Did you have a nightmare, too?" Regina asks. Henry just shrugs – which, they're learning, is teenager-code for "yes" – and Emma wraps him snugly in her arms while Regina reaches one hand up to rub his shoulder.

"I'm fine," he mutters, embarrassed.

"Sure. _Now_ you're fine," Emma replies, glancing over his head to grin at Regina, who offers a small smile of her own before closing her eyes, somehow managing to have her arms around all three kids at once.

As for Emma, she watches her family sleep for a long time before she finally manages to drift off.

It's a sleepless night, but she supposes it's one well-spent. A reminder that, whatever issues they're facing, their love will always be strong enough to conquer them.

They still sometimes have bad nights.

But they always have each other.


	13. First Day

**Prompt**: _Can you share something from when Henry was little, like did Emma try out any queer space parenting/playgroups? Or her having to constantly come out as a queer parent since a baby is quite a heterosexualiser to some._

**Title**: First Day

**Genre**: Fluff

**Rating**: K

**Timeline**: Henry's first day of kindergarten (2009-ish?)

**Characters**: Emma, Henry, random passersby

**Pairing(s)**: none

**Warnings**: none

* * *

><p>Henry's jumping up and down and racing through the house so fast that Emma can't even get his backpack on his shoulders. "Calm down!" she scolds, but she's laughing as she chases him through the kitchen with a comb. He's <em>finally<em> going to kindergarten, and they're both pretty excited about it. She can't get mad at him, not today.

Suddenly, he stops. "Mommy," he says seriously, "did you put all my pencils in my bag? Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure, but I'm also sure your teacher said you only need two. They have a sharpener there, y'know?" Henry scowls. He's very proud of his new pencils: a set of ten covered with pictures of all his favorite Disney characters. He's been using them to practice his writing for the last week – mostly just his name, but he'd also tried writing out one of the many stories floating around in his head. Sadly, he'd gotten tired after only the first line: _WUNS UP ON A TIM_.

"Okay, kid," Emma says brightly, reaching for her camera, "let's take a first day of kindergarten picture to show your dad when he comes to get you tonight." She runs the comb through his hair a couple of times – thankfully, Neal had taken him to the barber a few days ago, so it can't get _too_ messy anymore. "Alright, say cheese."

Henry flashes a huge, obviously forced smile for the camera (she can't complain, though, because it shows off all the adorable gaps where his teeth are missing) and starts stomping toward the apartment door. "Hurry up, Mommy! You're gonna make me late like _always_."

"Whoa! Tone down the hostility," Emma chuckles. She checks her own appearance in the mirror – with her glasses, she thinks she can pass for about twenty-five, in case any of the other parents are feeling particularly judge-y – and reaches for Henry's hand.

"You excited for big kid school?" she asks on the way out the door.

"Yeah, I'm gonna write stories _all day_," he boasts. "I'm gonna make a really big book."

"Um...yeah, good luck with that." She doesn't quite have the heart to crush his dreams – he'll find out about the tedium of school soon enough.

It's a quick walk to the elementary school; she doesn't really have time to get emotional about letting him go because he rushes off to join the pack of students about his size before she can even hug him properly.

"Have a good day!" she calls weakly before disappearing into the ranks of parents proudly watching their children line up and file into a classroom for the first time.

And then she hears some old, snooty mom in a velour tracksuit mutter, "Who's that boy with the princess backpack? What could his parents be thinking?"

With a surge of rage – that's _her_ kid being insulted, not to mention her parenting – Emma interrupts, "Um, excuse me, but Snow White is brave and kind and resourceful, and her story has a very positive message of hope, not to mention the importance of keeping things clean, so I think any kid who aspires to be like her is going pretty far in life."

The mom snorts (and Emma resists the urge to punch her in the face) and says loudly, "Pretty far toward being gay," sneering as she says the word like the mere taste of it is hateful to her.

And Henry – _oh god, Henry heard_ – turns around – _please, Henry, please don't say anything; we'll talk about this later_ – and says, "Hey, there's nothing wrong with gay people." Emma gives him a proud grin - _now keep walking, kid, please just keep walking_ – and then he draws himself up importantly and proclaims, "My mommy's gay!" for the entire crowd to hear.

Emma groans as the eyes of every single parent (some judging, some just curious) turn to search for whoever Henry's gay mommy could be before inevitably landing on her.

"And look how young she is, too," someone tsks.

Henry, thankfully, is already bouncing into the classroom, thinking his job is finished. "Hi," she says to the crowd of nosy onlookers, "I'm Henry's mom. And yes, I'm gay, and yes, Snow White is his favorite fairytale. Sorry if any of you have a problem with that."

A few people turn away from her, muttering amongst themselves, but one man in a greasy jumpsuit turns to her with a friendly smile and says, "Hi, I'm Ava's dad. She's a big fan of Hansel and Gretel."

And then another woman adds, "I'm Jack's mom. He's been obsessed with Peter Pan lately."

Emma breathes a sigh of relief as all the other parents slowly start introducing themselves, thinking that even if she doesn't make any friends today, at least Henry seems likely to. She's going to have to talk to him about outing her to random strangers, though.

But not today. Today she's just proud of him.


	14. Ours

**Prompt**: _puppy/kitten__  
><em>

**Title**: Ours

**Genre: **Hella Fluffy

**Rating**: K

**Timeline**: a little over a year after the end of the fic

**Characters**: Emma, Regina, Henry, Elsa, Anna

**Pairing(s)**: SQ, Swan-Mills family

**Warnings**: set in the future, so obviously there are spoilers (as of Sept. 29 2014)

* * *

><p>They've been in the new apartment for about five months now. The boxes are <em>finally<em> unpacked, her stuff and Emma's stuff and the kids' stuff all together in one place for the first time, and Regina thinks that perhaps they're all starting to settle back into a routine again.

That is, until one morning when Henry, who's in sixth grade now and almost as tall as Regina, sidles up to her in the kitchen after tossing three sandwiches in his backpack and says, "So, Momma, there's something I've got to ask you."

It still makes her heart flutter a little to hear him call her that, even though he's been doing it for months. It was Anna who'd started the trend: she was just starting to talk at the time, and naturally, one of her first words was "Momma." Most of the psychologists Regina's spoken to say Anna is too young to have formed any clear memories of her birth parents, so while they're always open about Philip and Aurora, Regina and Emma will probably be the only parents she knows.

Elsa picked it up a few weeks later; despite being older, she tends to follow her sister's lead, at least socially. (Though, interestingly, she was the first one to call Emma "Mommy.")

As happy as it made her, none of that had particularly surprised Regina. She _is_ – legally, socially, and in every aspect except biology – their mother. But the day the name had first fallen from Henry's lips, Regina had dropped the frying pan she'd been holding (thankfully, it was on its way _onto_ the stove, rather than off of it) and burst into tears, shocking him and embarrassing herself.

So far, she's managed to avoid having that particular reaction again, but the name still affects her, and Henry knows it. And it hasn't escaped her that he _might_ try tugging at her heartstrings to get something he wants – and if she hadn't suspected already, the exaggerated puppy-dog eyes would have given it away instantly.

"Yes, Henry?" she says carefully.

"Well, you know, I was thinking," he begins, speaking slowly, carefully, and wrapping an arm loosely around her waist – oh, he's good, "we all live together now."

"We do."

He opted to move in with Emma and start middle school in Boston once they'd decided to get the new place, explaining that after spending his whole life one-on-one with one parent or the other, he wanted to experience a big family with siblings and all that. (Not to mention, Emma had whispered, apparently his friend/crush Grace was moving to Portland with her dad, and he wanted to be at least a little bit closer to her.) It's been a bit of an adjustment for all of them, but Henry seems to be thriving.

"And I seem to recall a promise you made me when you and Mom first started dating."

"A promise?" This should be good.

"Maybe not exactly a promise," he clarifies, "but you both said you'd think about it. It has to do with getting a certain furry animal that starts with a 'P' and ends with a 'Y.'"

"Puppy?" Elsa pipes up hopefully from the kitchen table. Henry's been helping her with reading every night, and she's learning to spell words remarkably quickly. "Can we get a puppy?"

"Puppy!" Anna exclaims, rocketing out of her chair and dancing around the kitchen. "Puppy! Puppy!"

Henry stares at the ground sheepishly. "I didn't mean for that to happen," he mumbles.

"Like hell you didn't," scoffs Emma, poking her head out of the bathroom with her toothbrush hanging out of her mouth. "I totally saw you teaching her that word last night."

"Hey, _I_ didn't pick the book about dogs, she did!" Henry protests.

"Blame it on your little sister. Nice, kid."

Anna's still repeating "Puppy! Puppy!" and clinging to Regina's leg, Elsa's widening her eyes in imitation of Henry, and Regina just laughs.

"We'll talk about this later," she tells Henry. "You're going to miss your bus."

He turns to Regina for a kiss goodbye, then Emma (who mutters, "I love you, little shit," and kisses his cheek with her mouth full of toothpaste), and walks out the door with his head turned backwards, still flashing them his huge, pleading eyes.

"So," Regina says when he's gone, "puppies."

"Puppy! Puppy! Puppy!"

Emma groans and spits into the sink. "I'm leaving this one up to you," she says, shrugging her shoulders. "You're the one who owes him the bribe."

"Emma!"

But Emma's already grabbing her jacket, kissing everyone goodbye, and dashing out the door. "I'll text you at lunchtime!" she calls over her shoulder.

"Little shit," Regina mutters under her breath.

"Momma, that's not nice," Elsa scolds. "When can we get a puppy?"

"Puppy! Puppy!"

* * *

><p>Henry's surprisingly quiet at dinner. He hasn't mentioned anything about puppies, but he has a notebook in his lap and Regina sees something resembling a pros and cons list when she surreptitiously peeks over his shoulder. "No writing at the dinner table," she reminds him.<p>

"It's fine," he says with a beleaguered sigh, "I'm finished." He rips the page out, folds it in half, and hands it to her to read "with Mom, at your leisure."

They read it in bed together.

"Dogs are allowed in our building, and there's a dog park down the street," Emma reads. "Both true."

"Dogs can help people with PTSD." Regina groans. "Clearly, he's been talking to my mother."

Emma chuckles. "Yeah, and I think he's looking for a pet dog, not a service dog. Although," she continues suddenly, causing Regina to raise her eyebrows, "I was just talking about that today with Dr. Hopper, and –"

"You were talking about service dogs with Dr. Hopper today? Why?"

"No," the blonde explains in a rush, "Dr. Hopper was putting up flyers because apparently Pongo's sister had a litter of puppies or something that are apparently old enough to leave the nest, and I was thinking about our conversation with the kids this morning – well, your conversation. Sorry about that. Anyway, he mentioned that Pongo's whole family had been bred for a specific temperament so they could be trained as therapy dogs."

_That makes sense,_ Regina thinks, _given how much time Pongo spends in people's therapy sessions._

"And, I mean, I thought...well, I always assumed if we got a dog, it'd be a shelter dog, but maybe for our first time, we could go for –"

"Our _first_ time? Are you implying there will be more dogs?"

"I don't know. Maybe. I mean, in the movie, they ended up with a hundred and one, so..."

"Let me make one thing clear," Regina says firmly, pushing herself up on one elbow, "as the person who will most likely be saddled with the majority of responsibility for our future pets, I will _not_ end up with one hundred and one _anything._"

"Okay," Emma agrees. "No One Hundred and One Dalmatians. But how would you feel about one Dalmatian? Who's supposed to be especially intelligent and sensitive and good with kids?"

"I told Henry I would think about it."

"And?"

"And I'm thinking about it! But clearly, you've already made up your mind."

"I haven't," Emma argues. "I agree: it's not a decision to make lightly, but we do have a perfect opportunity here, and –"

"You saw the picture of the puppies?" guesses Regina.

Emma groans. "Yes! And they're so fucking cuddly and adorable!"

"Emma..."

"You know what? You have an appointment with him tomorrow. Look at the picture and see for yourself. And, you know, talk to him about whatever lingering concerns you have and all of that."

"I'm not paying my therapist to counsel me about pets." Now that she's retired, her appointments are no longer free, much to her irritation.

"Why the hell not? He counsels you about everything else. He counseled you about where to take me for our anniversary date."

"That was –" Regina sighs. "Fine."

"That was fine? Like, the anniversary date was fine? Because I thought it was better than fine, personally, especially some of the stuff that happened after. Or, fine, you'll talk to Hopper about the puppies?"

"Fine, as in you'll have to pay a fine if you keep talking while I'm trying to sleep."

"Not one of your better jokes."

"Shut up, or I won't talk to Hopper about the puppies."

Emma shuts up.

* * *

><p>Regina talks to Hopper about the puppies.<p>

And they _are_ pretty fucking cuddly and adorable.

That night at dinner, she clears her throat and says, "We have something to tell you."

That gets all three kids silent at once – a rare feat, although Henry doesn't count because he's been silent the entire meal, probably reading under the table – and Emma gently grasps Regina's hand.

"Wait!" Henry exclaims, eyes darting back and forth between them. "Why are you holding hands? I've seen this in movies – you're not having a baby, are you?"

"What?" Regina gasps, quickly yanking her hand away. "What would ever give you that idea?"

Emma starts laughing uncontrollably. "No, kid," she wheezes, "well, actually, yes."

"Excuse me?"

"We're having a baby, in a manner of speaking – just not a baby human."

That appears to stump him for a moment – Elsa, too (Anna's already mumbling something about baby dolls and returning to her mashed potatoes) – until he breaks into a huge grin and practically shouts, "We're getting a puppy?"

"Ouch. Kid – eardrums."

"Sorry," he mutters, but he doesn't really seem that way as he starts dancing around the room in a manner slightly reminiscent of Anna the day before, chanting about puppies and hugging everyone and promising he'll walk it before school every day. The girls follow his lead, and finally Emma and Regina are dragged out of their chairs, too, dancing and singing about puppies when they don't even have one yet.

Regina informs everyone that they're going to Dr. Hopper's friend's farm the next weekend to pick one out.

Emma drives Henry and Elsa to Petsmart to buy food and a leash and a dog bed and they come back with about five dozen toys of varying squeakiness levels that Regina attempts to throw away before Anna catches her and pitches a tantrum about it.

No one sleeps that night. The next day, Henry comes home from school with five different books about dog training that quickly become almost constant family reading.

* * *

><p>"So, we actually only have one puppy left," the woman up at the farm is telling them. "They've already been claimed except for Perdie. Let me introduce her to you, and you can see what you think."<p>

"Sorry, kid," Emma mutters, "I know you were hoping for a boy dog to even the ratio a little."

Henry shrugs. "Doesn't matter. Puppies are puppies. And I don't think dogs are too obsessed with their gender identities unless they're mating."

"What's mating?" asks Elsa, but they're saved from having to answer by the adorable black and white puppy trotting out of the pen.

"Anna, be gentle with the puppy," Regina hisses.

"She's a smart girl – she already knows sit and stay. She's almost completely housetrained, although she still occasionally has accidents at night, so you'll probably want her to sleep with some newspaper.

"Perdie, sit," Henry tries. She wiggles a bit, but obeys. "Good girl!"

She laps up the kids' praise, eagerly licking their hands as they crowd in to pet her.

"I think it's love at first sight," Regina whispers to Emma.

"A true fairytale happy ending," the younger woman says dreamily as she bends over to give the puppy a belly rub.

* * *

><p>It doesn't feel much like a fairytale happy ending when Perdie decides to chew through Emma's favorite boots. "This is why we bought her the toys!" Emma exclaims angrily, storming through the apartment with one tattered leather boot held over her head. "Where the hell are her chew toys?"<p>

Regina looks up disinterestedly from her book. "In the dishwasher, being disinfected after she vomited on them from eating horse manure at my parents' house."

Emma, suddenly turning quite green, drops the boot on the floor and sprints into the bathroom. Perdie happily resumes chewing.

"I never liked those boots," Regina muses. "Perhaps the jacket should be next."

"Evil," Henry tsks. "You wouldn't."

"You're right," she says with a sigh. "Perdie, drop it. We do not eat Mommy's boots, no matter how ugly they are."

* * *

><p>After that, Emma buys a bookshelf from Ikea that she claims is a shoe rack and keeps hers on the top shelf, but Perdie doesn't try that particular trick again, and Emma and the dog are quickly back on amicable terms. While Regina tends to do most of the mundane dog-related chores, Emma is the one who teaches her how to play Frisbee and tug-of-war, and Emma is the one that the puppy consistently turns to for extra treats.<p>

There's just one small issue they have yet to resolve.

"I thought we said no beds," Emma observes when she comes home from work late one night and sees Regina and Perdie cuddling. "That was your rule, if I remember correctly."

"It was," Regina replies smoothly, "until she was fully trained, which she is."

"Right. If she pees on our bed..."

"She hasn't had an accident in months. If she has to pee, she'll bark and wake me up."

"Yay, barking in our faces," Emma says sarcastically. "Just what I've always wanted."

Regina sighs. "I thought you liked Perdie these days."

"I do. I love Perdie. But I don't want _everyone_ I love in my bed with me. That includes the dog, the kids..."

"Okay, you've made your point."

"But?"

"But what? She stays."

Emma shrugs, kicks off her pants, and slides under the covers, affectionately patting Perdie on the head when she whines for attention. "You didn't have a nightmare, did you?" she abruptly asks Regina.

"Don't be silly, dear. I wasn't even asleep yet," Regina mutters, avoiding the other woman's eyes.

"Regina..."

"I just...I didn't know when you'd be home," she finally admits, "and I was a bit...well, I thought, if you were home too late..."

"Aha. So the dog is my replacement."

"No, I just –"

Emma laughs quietly. "It's fine," she dismisses. "She can sleep here tonight. And every night, I guess, although the kids might get jealous. Maybe she can alternate who she sleeps with."

But try as they might, they can't get Perdie to sleep anywhere else after she'd spent one night in the master bedroom.

"It makes sense," Henry points out. "You guys _do_ have the most comfortable mattress. Kind of greedy of you, if you ask me."

"Nobody asked you," Emma replies. "And I need a nice mattress - I have back problems."

"No you don't."

"Children!" Regina exclaims.

"Mommy's not a children," Anna giggles.

"A child. And yes, at this moment, she is."

* * *

><p>Perdie brings both good moments (playtime with the kids, unconditional affection, the occasional relief from nightmares) and bad (the time she ran through a glass door and needed to spend the night at the animal hospital was nobody's favorite), but as the months go by, Regina sometimes forgets that there was a time before the quickly-growing puppy was part of their strange little family.<p>

"You know, I never had a pet before," Emma muses one lazy Sunday afternoon at the dog park, lounging on a bench with Regina while watching Henry and Perdie play a fierce game of tug-of-war, much to the little girls' delight.

"Really?" Regina snorts. "I never would have guessed."

"Hey, come on!"

"No, you come on. You tried to feed the dog cornflakes! Our preschoolers had to stop you!"

"She was hungry, and we were out of dog food."

"I was ten minutes away with a new bag!"

"At least I didn't try to feed her Cocoa Puffs," Emma points out haughtily. "Anyway, as I was saying, I know you grew up on a farm and stuff, but I've never really been around animals. At least, none that were mine, you know?"

"And what do you think about it? Ready to cut and run?"

"No! I mean, I always wanted one, but..."

"But...?"

"It's just, having a pet is kind of a permanent step to take, isn't it? It means we're really a family. Not that we weren't a family before," she quickly clarifies, "but, like, even after we moved in together, there was always my stuff and your stuff, and technically – legally, anyway – there's still my kid and your kids, and it's just...we finally have something that's _ours,_ you know? I mean, Perdie is all of ours equally."

"She is, isn't she?" Regina agrees.

As if she'd heard them, the dog in question comes bounding up and drops a tennis ball between their feet. "She's sick of tug-of-war," Henry hollers from across the field. "Throw it over here."

"Or, more accurately," she corrects herself wryly as she stands up to throw the ball, "I believe we're hers."


	15. Text Me

**Prompt**: _Regina has a day where she is uncharacteristically clingy and underfoot. Emma is befuddled and loves it._

**Title**: Text Me

**Rating**: K+

**Timeline**: future - maybe about 1-1.5 years

**Characters**: Emma, Regina (brief appearances by fellow cops)

**Pairing(s)**: SQ

**Warnings**: future!fam fic, so there may be spoilers for unwritten TPAS scenes (as of Oct. 4, 2014)

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><p>Regina rarely texts her at work.<p>

Okay, "rarely" might be overstating it a bit, but they're adults about it. She'll text if anything comes up with the kids, or if she wants to do something out of the ordinary for dinner. She texts if she's in the area and feels like bringing by some donuts (she's not in the area every day, of course, but it happens). There are usually one or two texts to check what time Emma's coming home, and at least one "I love you" text around midday, just in case Emma forgets.

Okay, "rarely" may be overstating it a lot, but it's safe to say Regina _rarely_ texts her more than ten times in one day. Fifteen max. They're adults about it, really.

But today, there have been twenty-five and it's barely even eleven.

_Anna spilled an entire carton of orange juice. In case you're looking for your jacket, it's at the cleaners._

That one's legitimate – could have waited until tonight, but who knows what time she'll be home? And by then, there could be more drama going on, or _something_ that makes Regina forget to tell her.

_I'm going grocery shopping. What vegetables haven't you eaten in a while?_

Another important one – although she doesn't necessarily appreciate the tone. **We need mozzarella cheese, **she types.

_Not a vegetable._

**You could also buy some tomato sauce.**

_Still not a vegetable._

**Close enough.**

_Spinach, broccoli, peppers...?_

"Swan!" Jones whines. "Could you maybe try not to lord it over the rest of us that you've got a hot girlfriend who's madly in love with you? Focus on the case!"

"Sorry," she mutters before texting, **I'll leave it up to your judgment. Gotta get back to work.**

_Okay, I'll buy some hot chilies just for you. Love you – have a good day._

**Love you, too. Please no chilies.**

Regina's radio silence only lasts about ten minutes. When Emma's phone buzzes again, she's mildly worried (and Jones mildly annoyed), but there are only three words on the screen.

_I love you._

**Likewise, but we just established that. What did you do?**

_I don't know what you're talking about._

**You bought the chilies, didn't you?**

_Even if I did, you don't have to eat them._

**If you didn't do anything, why are you saying I love you again?**

_Because I love you._

**...ok.**

**I love you too.**

**But you're being a little creepy.**

_Just wanted to make sure you don't forget._

**Never do.**

"Please tell me you're at least sexting," Jones complains.

"Ew, why would I tell you that?"

"So, you _are_ sexting?"

"Alright," Locksley hollers from across the room, "Swan, stop sexting; Jones, stop talking about sexting!"

"He's just jealous he has no one to sext," Fa whispers, elbowing Jones in the ribs a little harder than could reasonably be called "playful."

Rubbing his side and groaning, he hisses, "I hate both of you."

And Emma's phone buzzes again.

_What time are you coming home?_

**I don't know, it's only 11. Why?**

_Just curious._

_Elsa wants to give Perdie a bath._

**Uhhhh...ok. Do you want me home for that?**

_I don't know._

_I mean I don't know if we're going to do it._

_She's smelly, though._

Emma smirks. **Perdie or Elsa?**

"Oh, good lord," Jones groans, "I don't want to think about the Evil Queen telling you all about her sexy lingerie."

"What are you talking about?" Fa asks, trying to hide a smirk. "Of course you do."

"You're right, I do. Is it black and lacy? Does it involve a garter belt?"

This time, it's Emma who smacks him, pretty hard across the face. "No, idiot. She's texting me about giving the dog a bath."

"So she's wet and soapy, then?" he tries feebly, and Emma just laughs before picking up her buzzing phone.

_Both, actually._

_Hmm...maybe Elsa will agree to take a bath for once if I tell her they can do it together._

**Maybe.**

_But then Anna will want one, too, and our tub isn't big enough._

**They can squeeze.**

**But I don't want to come home and find all three of you a bloody mess.**

_Perdie wouldn't do that._

**The state of my shoes says otherwise.**

_You're still not sure what time you're coming home?_

**Not since you asked me five minutes ago.**

_I know, sorry._

_I'll stop texting so you can get back to work._

_Have a good day!_

_I love you!_

**I love you, too. Again.**

The next text doesn't come until a few hours later, when she's in the car with Nolan on the way to interrogate a suspect. _Henry has to do a science fair project._

Emma checks her watch – yeah, it's around the time Henry usually comes home, but there's not much she can do for him at this exact second.

_He wants to make a remote control butterfly._

**That sounds kind of cool.**

**And hard.**

_That's what I told him._

**Tell him to do some research and I'll talk to him tonight.**

_Do you know what time you're coming home?_

**Not yet, sorry.**

_I bought the mozzarella._

**Thanks.**

"Regina?" Nolan guesses.

"Yup."

"How far the mighty have fallen," he laments with a huge grin on his face. "Two years ago – yeah, you'd never have caught her texting anyone. Who knew you'd be the one to bring out Her Majesty's soft side?"

"You're welcome," she says shortly, though she's smiling, too. As random as this day has been, she can't say she doesn't appreciate all the attention.

The smile is quickly wiped off, though, when the suspect ends up running (and throwing a punch at Nolan), and there's hours of interrogation and arrest paperwork and incident paperwork, and she regretfully texts Regina, **Maybe not home until 10-11.**

_:(_

_I miss you._

**I miss you, too.**

**Coming home as fast as I can.**

**Give the kids extra kisses from me.**

_I will._

_Can't wait to see you._

_Screw paperwork._

And then Emma wonders if there's something going on, because Regina doesn't really sound like herself. She never sends emoticons and she would never, ever try to downplay the importance of paperwork. It's probably not something major: she'd have mentioned something if one of the kids was hurt or sick. She supposes Regina herself could be the one having a bad day, but those are usually characterized by silence, and today they've had anything but.

It's 11:15 when she finally walks in the door, going out of her way to make as much noise as possible. There's about a zero percent chance that Regina's asleep – unless she's somehow capable of typing with her eyes closed – but it's their routine, and she's not breaking it, because the day she walks into the bedroom while Regina's still sleeping will be, one way or another, the day this relationship ends.

She's surprised to find Regina standing at the kitchen counter in a tank top and underwear both clearly stolen from Emma's pajama drawer, arms crossed over her chest as she stares at an oven timer. "They say a watched pot never boils," she jokes, and the brunette is in her arms almost instantaneously. "Oof – you alright today?"

"Fine," Regina murmurs, face buried in the crook of Emma's neck, "I just...missed you, I guess."

"I missed you, too. Paperwork's not the same without you yelling at me." She thinks she can feel Regina's lips quirk upward into a grin, even against the skin of her neck, and Emma's about to wipe it off with a kiss when her stomach suddenly growls.

Regina's head tilts up, eyes set in a reproachful glare. "I figured you forgot to eat dinner," she mutters.

"I wanted to come home to you faster," protests Emma. "Anyway, you're cooking something."

"What makes you think I'm cooking for you?"

"It smells like pizza."

"Not all pizza is for you," Regina points out, though her increasingly pink face and lopsided grin give her away. "I might be expecting company."

"Aww, you made me a whole pizza? I think that deserves a kiss."

"I was hoping you might consider sharing," Regina mumbles as she pulls their lips apart, "and I may have covered about a third of it with chilies to ensure that you would."

Emma shrugs. "I'm still impressed."

"What you should really be impressed about is the fact that I managed to hide it from Henry," Regina calls over her shoulder as she turns to check the oven. "He ate a whole one by himself at dinner and claimed to still be hungry. I think he's still up reading in his room, by the way, if you want to tuck him in. The girls have been asleep for a while."

"Okay. I'll go say goodnight to Henry and talk to him about this science fair project, and then we'll eat pizza. And then," she promises, wiggling her eyebrows, "we can talk about all the things that we missed about each other."

"I'll start compiling the list."

"By the way, Jones had an...interesting...idea about the texts you kept sending me. I was thinking we might discuss that, too."


	16. Family Dinner

**Prompt**: _If you're still doing tapas prompts I'd love to read one that takes place a few years in the future where they all go to Cora and Henry Sr's place and have a family dinner._

**Title**: Family Dinner

**Genre: **Fluff

**Rating**: E for everyone!

**Timeline**: about 3 years in the future

**Characters**: Regina, Emma, Cora, Big Henry, Little Henry, Elsa, Anna

**Pairing(s)**: SQ, Cora x Henry (the old Henry)

**Warnings**: potential spoilers for unwritten parts of TPaS as of Oct. 5, 2014

**Notes**: This one could potentially continue if people want it to. :)

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><p>Regina is fussing with the tails of Henry's shirt as they stand in front of the door, nervous fingers itching for activity.<p>

"I think you've tucked and untucked it about five times," he grumbles, but he lets her do it with remarkable good humor.

"It won't sit right," she complains, trying to keep her voice light. "It's too short. I think this means you need to stop growing."

"Not much chance of that." He laughs, turning around to give her a hug. He's fourteen now, about to start his freshman year and enjoying his new status as the tallest in the family, but he's still an affectionate little boy at heart, and tonight she needs that. Dinner with her parents isn't as nerve-wracking as it once was – the kids are pretty good at diffusing Cora's criticism – but it's still not the way she'd prefer to be spending the evening.

It would be incredibly bad form to miss her mother's birthday, though.

"Can I ring the doorbell?" Anna demands, squirming in Emma's arms. They're all looking at Regina expectantly, waiting for her to make the call.

She sighs, thrusting her hands firmly into her pockets. "Yes, of course, go ahead."

Emma's still staring, eyes narrowed like she knows something's up, but she's not going to bring it up in front of the kids. Ensuring their shoulders brush as she passes by, she takes a big step forward onto the porch and leans in so Anna can ring the bell.

Cora answers almost immediately, as if she'd been standing by the door, waiting for them. "I take it this is not a surprise party?" Emma remarks drily, struggling to hold on as Anna lunges from her arms, ready to tackle Cora to the ground.

"Happy birthday, Grandma!" she exclaims.

"Anna, kid, you're getting too big to jump on Grandma," Emma scolds, though she's chuckling even as she says it, and Cora feigns offense.

"Nonsense, dear! These old bones are plenty strong enough to hold a grandchild or two." As if to illustrate her point, she scoops Anna out of Emma's arms and holds the quickly growing four year old on her hip. She's clearly uncomfortable – and Regina, meanwhile, is darting forward to avert any potential crises should the "old bones" decide to bend the wrong way – but she puts forth a good effort and manages to set Anna down without incident, though the way she's stretching her back can't be good. "Elsa, darling," she says regretfully to the shy second grader peeking out from behind Regina's legs, "I think I'll need to hug you from the ground today."

"What about me?" demands Henry, stepping into the light. Seeing him for the first time causes Cora to gasp.

"Henry!" Then she turns back into the house, hollering, "Henry, come here!" She shakes her head in wonderment at his size. "It's only been a month since we last saw you! What happened?"

"I've been eating my vegetables," he says with a shrug.

"And sleeping about twelve hours a night," adds Emma. "It's like we have a very hungry cat."

Regina's father appears at the door, and Cora exclaims, "We might have to switch nicknames; you can't be Big Henry anymore!"

"Old Henry and Young Henry?" the younger Henry suggests. "Henry Senior and Henry Junior?"

"I think you get to stay Little Henry," Emma says, poking him in the ribcage. "Something to keep you humble."

"Well, whatever size you are, it's good to have you here," Big Henry says jovially. "Why don't you come in – we've been having a bit of a mosquito problem lately, so it would be best not to leave the door open."

"That's what we get for living in Maine," Cora mutters.

"We've lived here for forty-five years, Cora, and the only way I'm leaving this house is in a pine box."

"Daddy," Regina whispers, "you can't make jokes like that."

Cora turns to glare at him and says, "Yes, I agree. On my birthday, too."

"Sorry," he replies with an easy smile, "but you should know that I had my check-up last week and all systems are go. Nothing to worry about."

"Yes, well, the joke still wasn't funny," Regina sighs, allowing him to pull her into a tight hug. He's shorter than she remembers, even from a month ago, and he's been walking with a cane since the spring. He's had to hire someone to help out with the horses, but he's still tending the orchard and still mayor-ing and still apparently finding it funny to make jokes about mortality.

"Regina is right, darling," Cora says stiffly. "Now, please come into the house so we can have a mosquito-free celebration."

Emma holds Regina's hand as they enter, giving her a soft, supportive squeeze as Big Henry calls, "Okay, kids, who's helping Grandpa with dinner?" causing a massive stampede into the kitchen.

"You're letting _him_ cook?" Regina demands, unsure whether she's happy-shocked or terrified-shocked. She doesn't remember her father _ever_ cooking – she doesn't remember her mother ever letting him near the kitchen. He's excellent at mixing drinks, that's for sure, but an entire birthday dinner?

"Relax, dear, he's only making the appetizers," Cora says dismissively. "I doubt he and the kids could ruin taquitos. I had the rest of the meal catered."

Emma makes an odd sound, a little like a duck, as she chokes back laughter. "Of course you did," she wheezes. Regina smacks her on the back unnecessarily.

"Well, I'm not cooking my own birthday dinner, and Regina claims you were all too busy to come any earlier than six, so what was I to do? Sebastian is a very dear friend; I've ensured he made everybody's favorites."

Her hand closing protectively around Regina's again, Emma asks, "So...how many people is 'everybody?'"

Cora shrugs. "Just family. Seventy-three isn't really a year demanding a lot of fanfare, but I figured it was worth having a little something, just to get everyone together. Really, dear," she continues, turning to Regina, "I assumed once you retired you'd be up to visit a bit more often."

"Yes, well, it turns out that I have things to occupy my time besides work," Regina mutters, but she very quickly adds, "I'm sorry, Mother."

"No matter, you're here now," Cora says with a long-suffering sigh. "Come on, then – let's go pick out a wine."

"What the hell kind of caterer doesn't pick out the wine for you?" Emma gripes under her breath. "Get your money back, woman!" Regina rolls her eyes and drags the younger woman along to the wine cellar, listening to Cora's rambling monologue about merits of various Spanish reds like she's going to be quizzed on it, because if experience has taught her anything, she is.

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><p>"This should be easy, right?" Big Henry says, showing No-Longer-Little Henry the recipe he'd printed from the internet. "Cora cooked the meat ahead of time, so we should only have three steps."<p>

His grandson (that word gives him more joy than he'd ever thought possible) looks over the recipe, wrinkling his nose, and asks, "Have you really never made taquitos before?"

Well, this is embarrassing. "No, why? Have you?"

"Um...yeah."

"This is for when we make dinner ourselves," whispers Elsa, who's craning her neck to read over his elbow. "Momma only helps with the oven parts."

He's officially a worse cook than his daughter's daughters. "Then you'll have to teach me," he says brightly.

Anna clambers onto a stool and surveys the ingredients. Suddenly, scandalized, she demands, "Where are the vegetables?"

"What vegetables?" Now he's confused. Pork, beans, and large quantities of cheese. What more could they need?

"Momma says we always need vegetables for dinner."

"Anna," Little Henry whispers, "Momma's not here right now."

But the four year old shakes her head stubbornly. "We still gots to listen!"

Henry smirks. He should videotape this - Regina would be so proud.

"No we don't," Elsa says conspiratorially. "Grandpa says it's okay, and he's Momma's dad, so he gets to make the rules more than her."

Anna looks up incredulously at him. "You're Momma's dad?"

"Who did you think he was?" Little Henry laughs. "Just some random guy we visit all the time?"

"That's why she calls him Daddy," Elsa adds, rolling her eyes.

Drawing herself up to her full height on the stool – both Henry's rush to either side to spot her – Anna puts her hands on her hips and yells, "I knew that!"

Big Henry has to put a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing. Although he knows that none of the kids actually have Regina's DNA, there are moments when Anna's behavior reminds him so much of his daughter at that age that he almost forgets. "Of course you did, sweetheart," he says reassuringly. "Now, sit down so you don't get hurt, and let's get cooking. I think there will be plenty of vegetables in the rest of the meal, but if you really want some –"

"It's okay," Anna interrupts. "But don't forget we have to wash our hands!"

Little Henry's shaking his head. "She _really_ never lets you in the kitchen, does she?"

* * *

><p>Cora deftly uncorks the bottle and pours a small glass, swirling it around before taking a small sip and passing it off to her daughter. "This will pair perfectly with the steak," she declares. Regina tastes the wine, quickly nods her approval, and then passes it to Emma, who figures she's supposed to make some sort of intelligent remark.<p>

Imitating Cora's swirling motion, she turns to Regina and says with a self-satisfied smirk, "It's got great legs, just like you."

"Stop," Regina laughs.

She takes a sip – it pretty much just tastes like wine, but what does she know? – and adds, "Excellent full-bodied flavor. Tastes just like something else I love."

"You are absurd."

"Oh, I don't know," Cora teases. "I think she's adorable, and it appears that you do, too."

Regina's hands creep up to touch her reddening cheeks, and she scowls. "Adorable is an interesting word for her."

"Interestingly _fitting_?" Emma grins and plants a noisy kiss on Regina's cheek, further embarrassing her in front of her mother. It's fine, though – she's smiling. She's even possibly about to laugh, although she's putting in quite an admirable effort to hide it. She's always completely panicked before these family dinners, but they always end up having fun. Grandchildren (and concerted effort) have considerably mellowed Cora's judgmental nature, and Henry is always eager to do something fun with the kids. There are occasionally some uncomfortable moments, but it's never as bad as Regina thinks it's going to be. Not even close.

"Speaking of adorable," Cora remarks as the sound of small footsteps draws closer and closer, "I think –"

"Momma! Mommy! Grandma! We made taquitos!" Anna exclaims, sprinting through the dining room with the platter in her hands.

"Anna, don't –" Regina starts to warn, but it's too late. All three women watch, transfixed in horror, as Anna trips over her own feet and falls flat on the floor as the taquitos fly everywhere, as if it's in slow motion.

But then an ear-splitting wail draws them back to reality just as Elsa and Henry come running in after her, Big Henry hobbling along a bit behind.

"Baby, are you okay?" Regina gasps, immediately pulling Anna into her arms and checking for any obvious injuries. "That's why I always tell you not to run when you're carrying something."

"I'm fine," Anna sniffs, "but dinner isn't."

"Well, I think you're more important than a bunch of taquitos," Emma says reassuringly, drawing a pout from the two older children.

"It is kind of a waste of food," Henry mutters.

"We told you a million times to be careful," adds Elsa.

Big Henry pats their arms and bends over to pick up one of the fallen appetizers. "It's hardly ruined," he scoffs. "Cora always keeps this floor clean enough to eat off of." As if to illustrate his remark, he takes a bite and smiles blissfully. "This is the best taquito I've ever eaten – the floor gives it some extra spice."

Anna gasps. "We can eat off the floor here?" she practically screams into Regina's ear.

Big Henry says yes at the exact second Cora says no. Emma shrugs. "I'll give it a try," she offers, picking up one taquito and pretending to dust it off. "Yup!" she confirms with her mouth full. "Floor taquitos are the best taquitos."

Little Henry and Elsa are next, giggling as they each pick a "floor taquito" to eat, and Regina smirks at her mother before carefully bending down so Anna can select one. "This is delicious," she remarks, sneaking a bite before the toddler notices.

They're all watching Cora in anticipation. Finally, with a loud groan, she picks up a floor taquito and takes a tentative bite, deliberately taking a long time to chew it. "You're right, dear," she finally pronounces. "The dust must give it a bit of extra kick."

"Lady Mills!" Emma gasps, feigning horror, "did you just admit your floor has dust on it? The scandal!"

She waits for the volcano to erupt, but Cora only chuckles and pats her on the shoulder. "You caught me, Emma, darling. You can hardly expect me to clean on my birthday."


	17. Career Day

**Prompt**: _Can you maybe do a drabble or a snippet of [chubby and nerdy baby Regina] being bullied and how she promises to herself she'll spend the rest of her life protecting people like her?_

**Title**: Career Day

**Rating**: K+

**Timeline**: maybe 1980-ish? Regina is 9.

**Characters**: Regina

**Pairing(s)**: none

**Warnings**: slight TW for bullying if you're sensitive to that.

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><p>Regina picks up the last of her fallen books and pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose, blinking back tears. There's a rip in her new tights that Mother will probably be angry about, but at least she's not bleeding this time. Her parents have this stupid idea that if they show up for Career Day, kids will somehow think she's cool and stop bullying her.<p>

So far, it's had the exact opposite effect. She's in fourth grade now – you'd think they would have learned.

She's almost reached the classroom when she hears footsteps behind her, speed and volume increasing as they draw nearer. She tries to brace herself, but it's too late. The next thing she knows, she's flat on her face on the floor again, books strewn everywhere, and George, the meanest boy in her class, is cackling over her. "Learn to walk, fatty," he sneers as he kicks her in the side, and a couple of girls who had been standing nearby start to giggle.

Regina squeezes her eyes shut and counts to ten. She _won't_ let him see her cry.

But she's not sure if she can help it.

Suddenly, there's a deep voice booming over all of them. "Excuse me!" Regina turns her head slightly to see the new Deputy Sheriff, Officer Sanchez, who'd just spoken at the Career Day assembly.

_"My job is to find people who hurt others and put them in jail so they can't do it anymore,"_ he'd said gravely. Regina wonders if bullying counts.

"Assault and battery is a crime worthy of jail time," he informs George. "How would you like to take a ride down to the station?"

"What? But...but I can't go to jail; I'm nine," George sputters, all of his bravado vanishing as he cowers under the cop's glare.

"You don't think they have jails for kids? Juvenile hall – made for kids just like you who don't know how to treat others with respect. What's your name?"

"I don't have to tell you that!" George exclaims, practically in tears.

Officer Sanchez shrugs. "Suit yourself. I'll just ask the teacher. Your mother can expect a call from me later today, and if I ever hear about this happening again, she'll be picking you up from the police station. Now apologize and get out of my sight."

George mumbles, "Sorry Regina," and immediately flees the scene with the other students at his heels, while Officer Sanchez gets down on one knee and offers Regina a hand.

"Are you alright?" he asks, face concerned. "That was a hard fall."

Regina blushes. "It's just because I'm fat," she says under her breath.

"Or because he pushed you really hard. He shouldn't be doing that."

"They all do," says Regina. "I'm used to it."

"Well, you shouldn't be," Officer Sanchez says seriously as he helps her to her feet. "Listen, assaulting someone like that is a crime. People really do go to jail for it. If anyone is hurting you, you need to tell your parents or a teacher."

Shaking her head, Regina whispers, "I can't do that." Her mother will just tell her to suck it up, her father is mostly useless, and the teachers all love George."

"Then you can tell me," the deputy insists. "It's my job, after all."

"Putting bad people in jail, right?"

"Yeah, there's that," he chuckles. "But my job is also to protect good people like you, and make sure you stay safe and strong."

"Really?" asks Regina. She knows her parents love her, but no one's ever offered to protect her before.

"Really. Protect and serve, that's what we do." He's still down on one knee, looking her straight in the eyes, and for once she feels like there's someone who actually understands, who knows what it means to really be there for her.

She throws her arms around his neck, tears streaming down her cheeks as she finally lets herself break down. "I want to be a cop like you," she sniffles. "I want to protect people, too."

His arms are warm and strong and supportive as he murmurs into her ear, so only she can hear it, "I bet you will be someday. You're already brave enough. We need more people like you out there."


End file.
